


Camp Pining Hearts: Wolf Creek

by StormEnchanter



Category: Original Work, Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Based on Peridot's idea for a Camp Pining Hearts reboot, Drama & Romance, F/M, Love Triangles, M/M, Multi, Murder Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Teenage Drama, Think of this as what if Riverdale was actually good, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:55:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23226691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormEnchanter/pseuds/StormEnchanter
Summary: Camp Pining Hearts, a tranquil camp set in the thick woods of Wolf Creek, Canada offers a wide variety of fun activities, friendship, chances of love, and a wide diversity of skills that'll turn any teen into a well-rounded individual. At Camp Pining Hearts, we promise that any teen that walks into our grounds will leave with memories of a wonderful summer.......At least that's what the brochure for the camp advertised before Rodrigo's parents had shoved him into the car, driven the four-hour distance between their home and Wolf Creek and dumped Rodrigo out without even putting their feet on the brakes. Spend the summer changing yourself is what they'd told their only son before leaving him at a camp, hours away from home where Rodrigo knew no one or nothing. At Camp Pining Hearts, Rodrigo expects to ride out his summer with his nose buried in a book, but all of that changes when he somehow manages to make friends with the beloved lifeguard, Stefan and ends up in an unrequited crush with Jasmine, the prettiest and kindest girl at the camp. As a summer's breeze blows through Wolf Creek, Rodrigo thinks that camp might just not be too bad; that is until a body turns up in the woods. Summer might just be bad after all.
Relationships: Jasmine/Rodrigo (Steven Universe), Jasmine/Stefan (Steven Universe), Stefan/Rodrigo (Steven Universe)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 23





	1. Writer's Nook: Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> After watching _In Dreams_ I really fell in love with Peridot and Steven's overall love and dedication for the Camp Pining Heart's series. I was even more in love with Peridot's vision for a reboot and thought "what if?" (also there were a lot of unanswered questions I felt like; like why did Jasmine hide a body in the woods and what was up with the silent beekeeper????) it was then that Camp Pining Hearts: Wolf Creek was born. (Well that and I texted a friend at like 3 in the morning, screaming about my ideas for this series). Wolf Creek is a little bit different from anything I've ever written before, yes the characters are technically the property of Rebecca Sugar (please don't sue me; also if Rebecca ever ends up finding this fic, I will delete all of my social media presence, buy a remote cabin and spend the rest of my life in the woods).
> 
> All the ideas, angst, drama and overall concepts in this fic are my own ideas. 
> 
> This first chapter is a bit of a prologue and then we jump right into the meat of the fic; every five chapters or so will introduce what I've called "Writer's Nook." It's a chapter where essentially Peridot talks about her fic, converses with Steven or answers fan questions. But without further ado, here's Camp Pining Hearts: Wolf Creek!

**Peridot(Khazdeservedbetter):** Hello, humans of a site on the internet referred to as “Archive of our Own.” My friend, Steven, introduced me to this site after being heavily disappointed in the Camp Pining Hearts reboot. There are many narrative choices within the reboot that just don’t make any sense to me, so Steven introduced me to the world of “fanfiction” as an outlet to write about my frustrations with the reboot and potential ideas that I had that the series just didn’t do. So as I’ve seen many other “fanfictions” do in my month-long research that I’ve conducted, I would like to exclaim that  **none of the characters featured in this story are owned by me, save for the introduction of Stefan, all other characters are the intellectual property of Chronorealm Pictures Inc. Please don’t sue me.**

As this is my first time writing “fanfiction” please enjoy the carefully crafted ideas that I’ve written out. I envision my personal project as having a bit of murder mystery, drama, romance and other common tropes found in popular teenage drama shows Fireglen, 8 Reason to Lie, The Cryptid Book, and Amelia the Vampire’s Betrothed—all of which are intellectually riveting shows I might assert. But please I hope all of you internet readers enjoy **Camp Pining Hearts: Wolf Creek** by  **Khazdeservedbetter** as much as I’ve enjoyed spending countless sleepless hours writing it—though I still don’t understand the human concept of “sleeping.”


	2. Hidden in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer never truly begins until a camper goes missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing screams "my area is on lockdown due to a global pandemic" like playing animal crossing and finishing this chapter. Remember to wash every single part of your hands, get some calcium and vitamins in you, and prepare for the suffering that will come with the Steven Universe finale this week.
> 
> **Also if anyone has any questions or stuff about the series, feel free to ask them before the next Writer's Nook. Peridot will be answering any and all questions next time, so feel free to submit some in the comments if you have any!**

Sweat bristling on the porcelain-like surface of her skin, the only sound in the still bubble of silence that lingers around the woods is her ragged breath and that of the tip of the shovel digging into malleable dirt. She pauses for a moment, taking a much-needed respite as she drops the shovel down onto the grass beside her, lifts the edge of her crop top up and wipes at the sweat beaded along her forehead. Pausing with the movement, she tentatively glances at the burlap covered figure strewn across the ground beside her as if it was a beat-up package carelessly tossed out of the delivery truck. A sudden breeze sweeps through the woods, rustling the burlap sack covered figure; the young woman’s chin-length locks rustle slightly, tickling the back of her neck...or so she believed as the hair on the back of her neck rose.

Her lips, precipitously, pulled down into a bitter frown. Amber eyes swept through the woods in a calculated arc, her eyes narrowing as her gaze jumped from tree to tree, to the dark shadows lurking behind every bush. Her lips seemed to flatten, the movement draining the light pinkish color out of them as she glanced down at the supine form at her feet. “You shouldn’t have gotten involved in any of this,” her voice lowly croaks out into the night; a warning that no longer can be heeded by the body she’s digging a shallow grave for.

A long, outward push of air leaves her lungs as she drops the edge of her crop top and picks up the shovel once more, she resumes digging and only stops when she feels that the grave is big enough to dispose the body into. Dropping the shovel onto the ground, Jasmine releases a long-held sigh, using the back of her hand she wipes the sweat beading on her forehead, leaving behind a streak of dirt on the skin.  _ It should never have happened like this _ , she thinks to herself,  _ all of this would never have happened if you just hadn’t come here _ .

“I’m sorry,” she seems to mutter more to herself than the corpse. Sitting down on the ground, she groans with effort as she uses her feet to push the corpse into the shallow grave. The corpse doesn’t budge, with a rather brutish kick, the burlap sack covered remains give and roll over, from the momentum of the roll, the body tumbles into the shallow grave. Letting out a sigh of exhaustion, Jasmine hops up to her feet, brushing stray dirt from off of the back of her denim shorts. Getting up, she grabs the shovel and begins to fill the shallow grave; dirt flies from the shovel and strikes the burlap sack with a dull  _ whump _ sound. By the time the shallow grave is filled, sweat drips from her skin fall down to the earth and are greedily received by mother nature. Taking one elegiacal look at the grave, Jasmine grips the shaft of the shovel tightly as she turns and walks through the woods. A gentle breeze seems to follow her with every step that she takes, the wind whispering all of her dark secrets after her. The sign above her head swings gently in the nighttime breeze as she approaches civilization.

The sign swings in the night, the slim slivers of moonlight that hit the wood illuminating the words etched onto them.  _ Camp Pining Hearts _ it would normally read in the sunlight. In the moonlight it was hidden by shadows, for in the shadows secrets were kept and as Jasmine’s boots crunched against the dirt, she hoped that’s where hers would remain.

Rodrigo’s eyes flicker up from the words printed against the crisp white pages of his book to settle on Jasmine. Her back was pressed against a tree, her pet bird chirping happily as it hopped along the surface of her outstretched finger. His hands tremble nervously, despite clutching his book so tightly that Rodrigo’s only half worried about ruining it. It’s been nearly three weeks since his parents had dumped him in front of Camp Pining Hearts without even so much as a word, note, or half-hearted goodbye. They’d simply dumped him in front of the campgrounds along with his luggage. He assumed they’d be back once camp was over, but considering they hadn’t said a word to him when they dropped him off he could only hope they’d return.

He hardly notices that he’s still staring at Jasmine, so lost in his thoughts, that his cheeks turning a shade of rosy pink as Jasmine’s lips split apart into a grin, her teeth startingly white as she lifts her other hand and gives him a wave. His eyes widen, Rodrigo seems to shrink further into himself as he raises his book to hide his face. A heavy hand attaches itself to his shoulder, forcing Rodrigo to lift his eyes and turn his head slightly. Stefan is standing behind him, a friendly smile slipping across his heavily masculine face. His five o’clock shadow seems even darker in the morning than it has in the weeks since camp started.

“Rodrigo, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Rodrigo mumbles, his eyes slipping back to the words in his book; words that he hadn’t been paying attention to since he cracked open the cover.

“Are you sure?” Stefan asks him, he can almost hear the tone he normally adopts when he’s on lifeguard duty bleeding into his words now. “Because I don’t see you hanging out with the other campers or up at the canteen getting ready for the welcoming barbecue with everyone, so there better be a good reason for you to sit on this stump all by yourself.”

Lifting his gaze once more, Rodrigo glances in Jasmine’s direction; a subtle movement that he hopes the camp lifeguard doesn’t notice, but Stefan is just a little too observant for his own good.

“Oh,” Stefan inhales the word with a sharp intake of breath. Rodrigo’s cheeks seem to darken in color as he tries to shove his book against his face. He almost does with the heavy slap that Stefan delivers against his back, he has to shoot an arm out and grip the stump he’s sitting on to keep himself from falling off. “Why don’t you just go talk to her?”

“Talk to her!?” Rodrigo spluttered, his voice growing in pitch at Stefan’s suggestion. “She hardly knows who I am,” he thought Stefan was crazy for even suggesting such a thing, “she’s kind and sweet to everyone here, but I doubt she even knows the first letter of my name.”

Stefan’s lips quirk into a deep frown, “It wouldn’t hurt to try Rodrigo. All you have to do is stand up and go over to her, talk about things you both might enjoy.”

“Yea,” Rodrigo shakes his head, “like what? The fact that I’m a bumbling mess and she’s not?”

It seems impossible that Stefan’s frown can deepen, but it does at Rodrigo’s self-deprecating tone. He pats Rodrigo’s shoulder a little forcefully, his strength causing the younger camper’s grip on the tree trunk to tighten. “Rodrigo, you’re not a bumbling mess! You have good qualities too—”

“Like what?” He cuts him off, “managing to have a beehive fall onto my head the first day at camp?” He winces at the memory of having to sit in the medical tent for much of the day, he hadn’t even had time to find out which bunk he’d be staying in when the hive had come falling from the sky, dropped onto his head, and cracked itself into two, unleashing a furry of bees unto him. He’d been covered in so many stings that had caused his face to swell that another camper had to lead him to the medical tent.

“Look, anyone could have had that beehive drop onto them, you just happened to be underneath the tree at the wrong moment,” tone soft, Stefan gave Rodrigo’s shoulder a little squeeze in an attempt to comfort him. His face was muddled with emotion as if he wanted to say more to Rodrigo, but the distinct ring of the dinner bell reverberated through the woods. “Come on,” Stefan all but lifts Rodrigo to his feet, “putting some food into you might make you feel better.”

Stefan and Rodrigo begin a slow trudge up the embankment toward the canteen, as they walk Rodrigo tunes out Stefan’s endless stream of words of encouragement that are meant to make Rodrigo feel better about himself, feel better about coming to a camp he never wanted to be at in the first place. He wanted to be home, curled up in a comfortable nest of blankets and treats, a set of books carefully stacked near his thigh for him to devour at his leisure. A perfect paradise where Rodrigo didn’t need to interact with others, let alone a girl that barely knew the first letter of his name.

His vision is pointed at the tips of his boots as he continues to walk, he lifts his eyes went the summer breeze carries a bell-like laugh to his ears that he’s come to know well at this camp. A laugh that’s followed him into his dreams as he lays on the rough sheets in his cabin surrounded by the snores of his cabinmates. Jasmine’s back is turned toward him as she talks to some other camper that Rodrigo has seen frequently leaving from bunk two every morning during the breakfast call.

“This is a perfect opportunity!” Stefan slaps him roughly in the middle of his back, if Rodrigo wasn’t so used to such an action by now he would have tripped over his own two feet and fallen face-first into the grass before him.

“What are you talking about?” Rodrigo squeals, his voice rising in pitch and his tone bleeding with just the barest hints of distress.

“Go talk to her!” Stefan’s words would be encouraging to any other person that wasn’t Rodrigo in that single moment. Rodrigo’s lips unseam themselves, an exhausted protest weighing down the tip of his tongue that he’s ready to let loose, but is stopped by Stefan’s hand resting squarely in the middle of his back. His eyes widen as the lifeguard gives him a heavy-handed push that sends him flying forward and crashing straight into Jasmine’s back.

To Rodrigo, it’s almost like crashing into a boulder; a very stationary boulder. The force of the crash sends him stumbling back and falling onto his rear just as Jasmine whirls around with her companion. Her pet bird—that has now migrated to her shoulder—chirps in annoyance; Jasmine’s hands fly toward her mouth, her brows pinching together with worry as she gazes down at him.

“Oh! Are you okay?” Her words are honey-sweet with concern as she stoops down to help him up, she extends a hand out that he accepts. Eyes narrowing as she pulls him up with a surprising amount of strength, he notices a fleck of dirt on the edge of her socks.

“You have some dirt there,” he pointed to it and for a quick second thinks that his crash into Jasmine’s back might have left him with a concussion or some other serious condition that can cause hallucinations or distorted memories. He swears Jasmine’s benignant expression melts before him and is quickly replaced by a stygian look that would cause any hero of mythos to quake in their boots. Her eyes seem to darken, the smile on her face slipping into a blank look that reeks of coldness and misanthropy. The sudden alteration in her personality flees away just as quickly as it had come; a change so swift that Rodrigo’s lips are pursed together in consideration as he wonders if he’d all but imagined the moment altogether.

“Thanks!” The same cheery tone of voice that Jasmine always seems to possess is everpresent as she drops down to one knee to brush the dirt from her sock clean.

“No problem,” the words come out as a whisper so delicate that Jasmine doesn’t hear them as she rises up to her feet and walks away from him, resuming her earlier conversation with her companion. He watches them walk away, a groan bubbling in his throat, lifting a hand he smacks himself in the face. “That was terrible.” He grumbles.

Patting him on the back reassuringly, Stefan’s lips are pressed firmly in a thinly veiled grimace. “That wasn’t...too bad,” the lifeguard tries to console him, “it’s not the worst thing I’ve ever seen. Besides, you actually spoke to her!”

“Yea!” Rodrigo hisses, the corners of his lips tugging downward, “I told her she had dirt on her sock! That’s possibly the worst thing I could have said to her. I should have just thrown myself into the lake.”

Stefan pats his shoulder sympathetically and promises to give Rodrigo his portion of dessert tonight. A fatigued ghost of a smile stretches across Rodrigo’s face at the offer of extra dessert, “You’re a good friend, Stefan.”

They approach the canteen. It’s a long wooden building with a bell hanging from the porch rafters, the bell faintly rings as the gentle nighttime breeze disturbs it. The sun is hanging lowly in the sky as Rodrigo and Stefan climb up wooden steps and push through the open door. It’s like day and night in the canteen compared to outside; outside warm conversations, jokes and pleasantries flowed as easily as maple from a tree, but inside the canteen, there was an impenetrable bubble of unease that seemed to hang above the campers and staff like a dense miasma that was refusing to let up.

“What happened here?” Stefan voiced aloud the same question that Rodrigo was thinking as they glanced around the room, eyes carefully tracing the four long dining tables that contained campers from all ten bunkers. “Hey!” Stefan reaches out, stopping two campers in their tracks.

Ayo, who lives in Bunker Six, lifts a single blue eyebrow on their face. Rich dark skin crinkles slightly around their dark eyes that reminds Rodrigo of the raven from Edgar Allen Poe’s poem for some odd reason. With one hand they balance the food tray they’re carrying, with the other they adjust the strap of the dark backpack that they always seem to carry around with them. The sides of their blue hair are faded, with the bulk of it swept up into an updo with the bangs starting to curl back from the intense humidity.

Senna, another camper and Ayo’s longtime childhood friend, stares curiously at Stefan. “Stefan, what’s up?” Senna’s lips flatten in curiosity as her sky blue eyes flicker between the camp lifeguard and Rodrigo, her hands are shoved sky blue hoodie she wears that seems to clash with the orange beanie that hides most of her blonde hair.

“The room seems a little…” Stefan presses his lips together, unsure of what word to utilize in the situation.

“A little depressing?” Ayo proposes, their voice similar to a gentle breeze in the woods. Stefan nods at the assessment as Ayo jerks their chin in the general direction of where Percy, Khaz—a local Wolf Creek officer—and two of the camp counselors are huddled together in a corner of the canteen. Percy’s face is wrinkled with wrath, his face cherry red as he furiously whispers at the camp counselors and Khaz. Whatever they whisper back to him doesn’t placate him as he swivels on his heels and storms toward the door of the canteen and marches off to where the bunkers are located. Ayo leans in close to Rodrigo and Stefan, voice dropping to a whisper as if what they’re saying is confidential and isn’t well known. “Rumor has it that Percy’s told the camp counselors that Paulette is missing; he hasn’t seen her all day, but—” they shrug their shoulders, a small lift, and drop of them, “—the counselors aren’t too concerned, you know how Paulette just tends to do her own thing when she can.”

“Yea,” comes Rodrigo’s glum reply, his gaze swiveling over to Khaz who looks rather exhausted as he turns to say something to the camp counselors, “but then why call Khaz?”

“Well, she’s been missing since last night,” Senna’s right brow raises on her forehead as if this information isn’t so secret, “it’s kind of standard to call the cops if someone’s been missing so long, even if the counselors aren’t too worried.”

Rodrigo frowns at that, even as Stefan is guiding him away from the two campers, even as the tense bubble that seemed to cover the room bursts open causing laughter and light conversations to flow as easily as if nothing had happened. A light, breathy laughter draws Rodrigo’s attention to its owner. He spies Jasmine with the rest of her cabinmates, she notices him, lifts her hand and gives him a small wave. Despite the deep blush that settles on his cheeks, he waves back.

Dinner passes by with very little fanfare. Stefan ends up giving Rodrigo his Cookie Cat ice cream sandwich, despite it being his favorite. He feels a little bad for him and ends up breaking it apart, giving Stefan the strawberry ice cream portion of the sandwich as he isn’t too keen on the flavor. The quirk of Stefan’s lips has Rodrigo smiling too. 

When dinner’s finally over, Stefan departs from Rodrigo’s side, even though he worked as the camp lifeguard one of his duties included making sure every camper was back in their bunkers by the time curfew fell and that there were some stray campers who strayed off to the woods to make out.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Stefan tells him before jogging off after two campers who weren’t being as sneaky as they thought as they tried to slip into the woods unnoticed. 

Rodrigo turns just as he hears Stefan loudly scolding the two campers. His grip is tight on his book as he heads towards the bunkers. There aren’t too many campers lingering out, not with the news of Paulette’s disappearance making its way through the camp. The way to the bunkers is fairly lit by lanterns posted a comfortable distance apart, he’s passing by Bunker Two where he knows Jasmine is staying when he pauses in his tracks at the sound of a window being opened. He ducks behind a thick tree, he doesn’t really know why but he just does. Peeking around it, he notices Jasmine slipping out of the window without her pet bird anywhere to be found, her boot-clad feet drop down gently onto the ground. Jasmine seems to frown as she glances around her to make sure no one has seen her. Feeling that the coast is clear, she reaches up, pulling the window down until its shut and rushes away from the bunker and towards the woods.

Brows pinching together, Rodrigo wonders what just happened, a thought flits through his brain to chase after her and find out, but just as Rodrigo takes a step forward there’s a rather annoyed cough behind him. He turns to find one of the camp counselors staring at him with disappointment painted across their face as clear as day. “Curfew’s in half an hour, campers are to be in their bunkers before the final head check. Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”

Mumbling his apologies, Rodrigo heads toward his bunker, his mind still racing from what he just saw. Why would Jasmine be going out at this time of night? Especially when the camp counselors were being so militant about curfew after Paulette went missing? Why did Jasmine freak out earlier today when he pointed out the little patch of dirt on her sock? It wasn’t like it was abnormal for campers to have their clothes get dirty?

Sighing to himself, he can’t rid this strange feeling that attaches itself to his gut. It’s a feeling that settles deep into his stomach and curls there, settling in for a long slumber. Taking a quick shower once he reaches his bunker and slipping into bed, he finds that such small actions bring his mind no comfort as he settles in for the night.

“Lights out!” A camp counselor crows after checking to make sure that Rodrigo and his other cabinmates were in their bed. The harsh glow of the cabin lights go out, leaving behind the thin slivers of moonlight that are poking their way through the trees and the gentle darkness that seems to cloak everything. Even as Rodrigo allows himself to settle amongst the darkness, he can’t shake off the feeling that something about this summer is going to go wrong.

  
  


In the woods, shadows extend and blend into one another, creating a shroud of darkness that’s only disrupted by the beams of moonlight that manage to pierce through the dense leaves. The woods are silent and still at this late hour of the night, nothing seems to disturb it until the sound of heavy boots crunching against the earth are heard. A figure, heavily clad in a beekeeping suit makes their way through the thick, barreled trees. The veil that obscures their facial features is so thick that it should be improbable for this lone figure to be walking through the woods at such an odd hour.

The silent beekeeper continues to walk, with no destination or goal in sight. Passing by a particularly thick tree with moss growing up its bark, there’s a sliver of moonlight that illuminates a patch of dirt, the beekeeper nearly walks past it, but their footfalls halt. They stand still, a stone statue amongst the vibrant nightlife of the woodland. The moonlight catches on the patch of dirt in a way that makes it seem like the hidden task in a sidequest. Making their way toward the illuminated patch of dirt, the beekeeper bends down, brushing aside some of the dirt with the tips of their gloved fingers. The dirt crumbles away as they continue to disturb the patch, there’s something underneath it as fingers curl and start to scrape at the loosely packed soil.

As dirt crumbles to the side, tan-colored fabric peeks through along with a scrap of fabric that was clearly tossed into the patch like an afterthought. In that picturesque, midnight quiet that seems to hover over the woods, a blue scarf pokes through the patch of dirt. The pattern on it slightly faded from being sullied and buried for whoever knew how long. The silent beekeeper lifts their head up, tips it back as if attempting to stare at the sky despite the densely packed trees obscuring much of what can be seen. Nearby their feet, the blue scarf rustles as a gentle wind pushes dirt over the burlap covered figure, the thick fabric rustles from the breeze’s disturbance.

This summer just isn’t going to be the same anymore.


	3. Camp Full of Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been forever since I last updated, but I've been fleshing out the story I want to tell with Wolf Creek and I've been pretty hype with what I have planned for it, but here's a new chapter with more mystery, the beekeeper, and characters being fleshed out.
> 
> Also thanks for all the comments and kudos I've received so far!

Snores, soft, loud and hard form a chorus in the wooden bunker that somehow doesn’t disturb any of the campers. In the lower half of his bunk bed, Rodrigo’s fast asleep, his hands neatly folded over his stomach, the sheets tangled between his legs and his left cheek pressed against his shoulder as he peacefully sleeps. The interior of the bunker is quiet aside from the snores, occasional sniffles and other noises that teens make in their sleep.

The silence is unagitated, until for a brief moment, there’s a rather loud noise. One would expect the noise to disturb everyone inside, but the teens kept sleeping soundly until the noise came again, and Rodrigo was jolted out of his sleep by something that sounded like a rather loud bang that disturbed the quiet of the night. His brows pinch together as he tries to focus his eyes in the dark interior. He can make out the bunk beds and much of the furniture, his eyes finally coming to focus when his gaze falls on the window across from his bunk bed. He stills, his whole body as rigid as a slab of stone as he stares at the beekeeper standing outside of the window, inert, as if someone had made a hyperrealistic wax figure and placed it outside of the window as a comical joke.

The beekeeper’s gloved palms are pressed tightly against the glass, their veil dark and thick in the moonless night, shrouding their face is a darkness that competes with the inky black sky hovering above the camp.

_ Just pretend it doesn’t exist _ , Rodrigo assures himself as he lies back in bed, his eyes pointed toward the underside of the upper bunk,  _ it doesn’t exist if I pretend it never happened _ .

He stares at the upper bunk as the shadows of the trees cause shifting patterns inside the wooden cabin. His skin prickles with his nerves as he swallows thickly, his blood loud in his ears as he feels the unmistakable feeling of someone still watching him. He wills himself to go to sleep, even as the sky outside changes from an inky black to a lighter shade of dark blue. It isn’t until the sun is just peeking its head above the horizon, casting radiating swirls of pink, gold and orange in the sky that Rodrigo allows himself to slip back into sleep.

The short breadth of sleep he manages to get is interrupted by a loud horn wailing over the campgrounds.

“What’s going on!” One of Rodrigo’s cabinmates shoots upright in their bed as the sound of the horn cuts through their sleep, a sharp yelp tumbles from their throat as they fall out of bed and crash onto the floor, their sheets tangled between their legs. 

Other campers begin to wake up; some grumbling about the loudness of the horn, some complaining about being woken up so early. 

He doesn’t bother getting dressed, just walks outside in his pajamas with the other campers. Other campers come filing out of their respective bunkers, dragging their feet with hardly anyone changed out of their pajamas. The campers settled in the middle of the ring of wooden bunkers. All of the camp counselors were already standing before the campers, Rodrigo could see Stefan standing in the middle of the other counselors. As he joins his fellow campers, the grumbling and complaints of being woken up so early interweaves itself with curious questions about what this pre-breakfast meeting of campers and counselors could be about.

Gaze flickering to Stefan’s face, Rodrigo was almost taken aback by the lack of smile gracing the lifeguard’s face. He looked more serious than Rodrigo had ever seen him before and it unnerved the camper to no end as the last of campers made their way into the pulsing throng of worried chatter and grumbles.

A somber air seems to hang over the counselors as they coral the campers into silence. As the counselors start this strange meeting, Rodrigo catches Pierre and Percy hovering near the edges of his vision. They’re nestled between two bunkers, not quite joining the other campers but close enough to listen in. Other campers who spot the two of them seem to be trying not to stare at Percy and Pierre but aren’t doing a good job of hiding it.

Rodrigo is surprised when Ayo and Senna slip in between the crowd to stand beside him. Senna’s hair is sticking up all over the place, despite her signature beanie resting upon her head as if she hadn’t removed it before sleeping—a fashion choice that Rodrigo questions greatly. 

“Do you guys know what’s going on?” He asks them.

Senna holds a hand before her mouth and yawns into it. “Heard the beekeeper found a body in the woods last night,” she manages to push out in between another yawn.

He wants to ask her how she found out that, but every campers’ eyes focuses on Khaz who solemnly makes his way to the counselor’s side.

The whispers are born anew in that very moment. “Holy shit, what’s going on!?” A first-time camper whispers to their friends.

“Why is Khaz here?” Someone else squeaks out.

“How long is this meeting going to take?” Someone else questions, “I heard they’re serving bacon for breakfast.”

The counselors manage to corral the campers attention once more, when quiet finally blankets them all, the senior camp counselor—Hazel—steps forward and glances at the campers. “I’m sure some of you might already know what this meeting is about. I’m sure rumors of it are making its way through the camp, but we’re here to inform everyone that a body was discovered in the woods last night.”

A collective gasp rips itself away from the crowd. A random camper cuts through the throng of uneasy silence that follows after it to ask, “Do we know who it is?”

Expectantly, Hazel wrings her hands together as she swivels her torso to glance back at Khaz who nods and clears his throat.

“The medical examiner has identified the body as belonging to Paulette.”

The emotions that twist through the crowd are instantaneous as they are varied; sobs ring out, intermingling with the stunned silence and wailing that comes from those who’d known of Paulette or hung out with her frequently through her years at the camp. Rodrigo’s eyes flicker toward the bunkers where Percy and Pierre are standing. A dark and bitter look masks Percy’s face as he quickly turns around on his heels and storms off away from the group. Pierre chases after him and Rodrigo feels sympathy blooming in his chest for the both of them. He searches for Stefan, finds him standing ram-rod straight with his mouth clenched so hard Rodrigo can see the veins in his neck evident to everyone. His arms were crossed in front of him, his fingers digging into his flesh so tightly that his digits were pale as milk despite the warm summer sun beaming down on them all.

The picturesque summer view was ironic given the morbid news that had just been delivered.

Stefan seems as if he’s trying to hold back tears as his bottom lip trembles somewhat terribly to the point that he has to suck it in between his teeth. Rodrigo knows that despite Percy and Paulette’s friendship at camp, Paulette was closer with Stefan in a way that even his relationship with Rodrigo couldn’t compare. He doesn’t know what it’s like to lose a friend but this must suck.

“If anyone needs to talk,” Hazel speaks up, “the counselors are here for you, you can come find one of us or stop by the staff cabin if you need to, but be warned that the curfew is still in effect until the police investigation is over.”

With the meeting over, the campers break apart to head back to their bunkers either to catch up on more sleep, take a shower or head to breakfast.

Rodrigo stands still in the dispersing crowd, he manages to catch Stefan’s eye, his lips part open, a tongue darting out to wet dry lips as he fumbles in his brain for something to possibly say.  _ Sorry you found out your friend is dead _ just didn’t ring with as much sympathy as Rodrigo wanted it to. Stefan seems to sense his intentions and just gives Rodrigo a small shake of his head as if to say  _ not right now _ . He watches Stefan walk away.

Senna, who looks a little bit more alert after having such somber news delivered to the campers, shoves her hands into the pockets of her pajama pants. Her brows are pinched in determination as she frowns at Khaz, she starts to slip away from him and Ayo but stops when Rodrigo calls out after her.

“What are you doing?”

She rolls her eyes at him as if her actions couldn’t be more obvious. “I’m going to try and yank information out of Khaz.”

“Why?”

“Uh, dude, there’s clearly something up.” She sighs through her nose, glancing at Khaz every few seconds or so as he talks to a few of the counselors who still remain in the bunker clearing.

“Like what?” Rodrigo asks, his mouth pinched at the corner even as he glances at Ayo who stands there with a look on their face as if they’re used to all of the antics Senna does.

“Clearly,” Senna inches forward toward them both, her voice dropped to a bare whisper, “something about Paulette’s death is fishy. If this was a simple case of Paulette going out into the woods and underestimating nature and succumbing to the elements the camp counselors and Khaz would have said something of that nature. But we’re on curfew until her death can be officially investigated? Something’s up here Rodrigo and I won’t rest until I get to the bottom of it.”

  
  


“Come on, Khaz, just give me a morsel of information and I’ll be out of your hair.” Senna’s hands are clasped behind her back as she tries to keep up with Khaz’s hurried pace.

“Senna,” Khaz pushes her name through his teeth with an exasperated sigh, “you know I can’t tell you anything.”

“I’m not saying you have to tell me  _ everything _ ,” Senna points out with a sharp frown gracing her face, “just give me a little something and then I’ll leave. Did you do a toxicology report? Was anything strange found on Paulette’s body? Did you find anything at the scene of the crime—which where is that located by the way?—come on just—”

“Senna, stop!” Khaz whirls around on his feet and just sighs at her. “This is just a preliminary investigation, alright.” His eyes soften as he stares at her, “listen...I know...you feel a certain way about your mom’s last case, but don’t try connecting dots where there aren’t any. Paulette’s death was an unfortunate accident.” Senna bristles, her lips pressed tightly together as she glares at Khaz. “But look,” he continues, “this is official police matters, this doesn’t concern you and you shouldn’t be trying to weasel your way in either. Just go back to camp, eat breakfast, and spend the summer hanging out with your friends...this isn’t something your mother would have wanted for you.”

At the mention of her mother, Senna scoffs, a rushed sound that leaves her body with every ounce of anger that’s boiling beneath her skin. “Don’t tell me what my mother would have wanted for me,” she spits out, she stares at him with sharp eyes that seem to pick him apart, her lips pressed together so tightly that the color starts to drain from them. She spins around on her heels and starts to make her way back to camp. “But thanks for telling me Paulette was murdered.”

“I never told you that!” Khaz’s brows pinched together as Senna stopped and turned her head to glance at him over her shoulder.

“You didn’t, but your reaction tells me everything.” A smirk traces across her face as she lifts a hand and gives him a lazy wave. “Have a good day officer.”

  
  


Rodrigo cuts his sunny side up eggs in half, the yolks oozing out into an orange mess on his plate until they reach his slices of bacon. Despite the loud clamor of noise within the canteen and the wide selection of campers’ favorite breakfast foods, Rodrigo’s breakfast tastes bitter with every bite that he takes. Stefan’s nowhere to be seen—hasn’t been since the early morning meeting. Rodrigo manages to shovel the rest of his breakfast into his mouth, with every bite he can’t find it in him to enjoy the taste; not even the bacon brings him joy and considering the meat options that the camp offers for breakfast every day—usually sausage patties or links of some variety or chorizo—Rodrigo just doesn’t find his heart enthralled by it.

He doesn’t see Stefan when he heads to his painting and pottery workshop, the lifeguard usually drops by to check in on him as he makes his way down to the lake.

Lunch arrives and he’s listlessly poking holes into his salad with the tip of his fork as he glances around the canteen, hoping Stefan will walk in, but gives up as the minutes tick by. When he drops by the lake, he expects to see Stefan seated proudly in his lifeguard chair but finds another camp counselor instead of shrugs their shoulders at him when he asks about Stefan and remarks that he’s “sick.”

When dinner comes, Rodrigo is eating by himself. He hasn’t touched his waffle fries, tiny cup of fruit salad or his bacon cheeseburger sloppy joes. His heart isn’t in dinner and he’s about to just call it a night and head back to his bunker when Ayo slides in on the bench beside him and tosses an arm around his shoulder.

The casualness of the action shocks Rodrigo since neither of them are friends. “What are you doing?” The words come slowly out of his mouth as his eyebrow rises at the same time with the question.

“Just pack up your dinner and come with me,” Ayo tells him, slipping away from the bench.

With a sigh, Rodrigo follows them with his eyes, his gaze flitting back to his tray as he weighs his options in his head. He ends up grabbing a recyclable take out container and packs up his dinner in it. The camp wanted to offer its campers a bit of freedom in every aspect of their life at the summer camp, students were allowed to grab take out containers when they wanted to spend time outdoors enjoying their meals instead of being crammed into the canteen. 

Rodrigo ends up following Ayo out into the woods, the path they’re taking isn’t lit by anything except the glow of the stars above. With every step they take, stress seems to fester its way into his blood as they walk further into the woods causing him to wonder where it was that Ayo was taking him. A brief thought flashed in his mind that maybe he was being led to his own demise, he quickly dashed the thought from his brain.

“We’re here,” Ayo spins around to face Rodrigo, his mouth splitting into a grin as the awkward teen’s eyes widen as they settle upon a warmly lit treehouse. But treehouse wasn’t the right word to describe the impressive construction, it was more like a mini home or one of those impressive treehouses you would find at a 5-star resort and cost more than the average mortgage of a ranch farm and the land that accompanied it. There’s a ladder that leads up into the treehouse that’s built on the base of a sturdy tree, it’s limbs poking out in places where someone had carefully built the house around them as if they wished to incorporate the natural elements of the tree branches into the house.

“What is this?” Rodrigo whispers the question, awe threading through his words.

Ayo laughs at the expression upon his face. Hooking a thumb over his shoulder to point at the building behind them both, “Welcome to mine and Senna’s castle away from camp. We built this place a few years back, both of us have been coming to this camp for so long and the kiddo camp across the national park that we needed a place away from the bunkers to just...relax and chill.”

“You mean without the hawkish eyes of the counselors?” Rodrigo questions, his brow arching at the question that gets answered by the flush of Ayo’s cheeks.

A sharp incline and drop of their shoulders had Ayo huffing out, “Senna and I know these woods like the back of our hands. No one would be able to find this unless we lead them to it. But come on, I’ll give you the tour.”

Ayo gives him a tour of the treehouse once they’ve climbed the ladder up into what appeared to be the living room. With curiosity, Rodrigo watched as Ayo pulled up the ladder through the trapdoor and leaned it against a wall. “Precautionary measure,” was all Ayo had uttered out before showing Rodrigo the rather sizeable living space where a secondhand loveseat and a pair of beanbag chairs were arranged in an L shape around an oval table full of chips scuff marks. He was then shown the loft that you had access to only by slipping out through the door in the living space and climbing another ladder up into the space. “The other loft is a little bit more hidden and I’m not about to risk my life tonight just to show you it.”

Rodrigo’s eyes widen slightly at that information. They end up heading back to the living space and are sitting down at the table when a bird’s cry comes from within the forest, cupping their hands around their mouth Ayo returns the strange cry and waits for a heartbeat before Senna’s pushing the trap door open and pokes her head into the space. If she seems surprised to find Rodrigo there she doesn’t show it, instead, she clambers her way into the space, dumping her heavy backpack onto the ground beside her.

“Please tell me you have extras of your dinner?” She asks as she collapses against Ayo’s side, carefully watching her friend retrieve two sets of containers from his own backpack with hawkish eyes.

They push one container towards her, causing a pleased hum to rumble in the back of her throat. Plucking out a single fry, she snaps off the end of it with the tips of her teeth, a smooth brow arching above her eye as peers at Rodrigo with a mixture of suspicion and apathy. “Why’s he here?”

“Be nice,” Ayo warns her which only earns them a shrug of Senna’s shoulders. “I felt bad for Rodrigo since Stefan wasn’t at dinner with him.”

“Yea,” shoving the rest of the fry in her mouth, she reaches into the container and pulls out the chicken sandwich from within it. “Where is Stefan?” She pointedly asks Rodrigo as mayo oozes down onto her thumb.

He frowns at the question, at the very insinuation that was layered onto Senna’s tongue. He wasn’t one to keep track of Stefan’s every movement even if they had a friendly relationship together. “Why would you ask me that?” Rodrigo pushes the question through his teeth with a hiss. “I’m sure the other camp counselors or even Percy would know.”

Rolling her eyes at his answer, Senna points her pinky in his direction, “I would if any of the camp counselors or Percy hung out with Stefan as much as you do.” Pursing her lips together, she studies Rodrigo’s face as she carefully strings her words together, “and no offense, but I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Stefan just happens to be the only friend you have at this camp.”

His cheeks flush a shade of rosé pink, as much as he wishes her words didn’t ring true, the uncomfortable twinge in his chest knows that Senna’s right. “I have other friends,” he insists.

“Oh, really? Like who?” Her eyes are dark and weighted like she’s challenging him to point out the axiomatic nature of her question. 

He doesn’t have any friends.

There’s an uncomfortableness that weighs down the room as Ayo coughs into their fist and speaks up. “Rodrigo has us. We’re his friends.” A friendly smile forces the corners of Ayo’s lips to curve as they change the nature of the conversation—something that Rodrigo is grateful for by the long exhale of breath that he releases. “Senna, learn anything useful from Khaz?”

The mention of Khaz causes Senna to tip her head backward and groan rather loudly, the exasperation evident in the loud noise. “He was as tight-lipped as the counselors today, but from his reaction, I’m pretty certain Paulette was murdered.” She pauses to take a bit of her lukewarm sandwich. “But I did overhear from a couple of the counselors that Paulette’s family are coming up to camp during the weekend to collect her things.”

“You overheard it?” The corner of Ayo’s mouth tilts in humor, knowing Senna better than anyone, Rodrigo wonders what the mirthful tone that was woven through Ayo’s question meant.

“Ugh,” Senna groans, giving her longtime friend a sharp roll of her eyes, “I may have  _ illegally _ listened in to a two-way conversation, but who can blame me for trying, really?” She groans, tossing her chicken sandwich back into its container. “This whole thing sucks!” The displeasure in her voice is so apparent that Rodrigo can’t help but agree with her, “Paulette gets murdered but the camp counselors and Khaz won’t tell us anything!? There’s so little info to go off of, how are we—” a lightbulb seems to flicker above her head, a tiny thing that seemed burned out but grew brighter in strength as her eyes widened at the same time Ayo’s did. They both glanced at each other, a siamese grin pulling at their faces. “—Crime chart!” Both of them shouted in unison, leaving Rodrigo sitting confusedly at the low coffee table they’d been dining at.

Senna flocks to a painting that Rodrigo had noticed upon coming into the treehouse that’s located across from the coffee table, her fingers slipping underneath the oak colored frame to pull away from the blank canvas...or at least it seemed like a blank canvas to Rodrigo upon first glance. The material shines underneath the string of fairy lights, revealing that the canvas was in fact a whiteboard. 

“What is this?” Rodrigo’s brows are pinched together as Ayo begins to explain the crime chart to him.

“It’s a hobby of Senna’s and mine since we’ve been kids and were really into procedural cop shows—”

“Still am!” Senna glances over her shoulder at the both of them, a dreamy look misting in her eyes as she presses a hand to her heart, “that Everett Pope does things to my heart that I would never confess to a priest.”

“—Anyway,” Ayo snorts, clearly used to Senna’s proclamation of desires for the popular actor, “we sort of find popular unsolved cases and try to figure them out for ourselves.” As Ayo continues to tell Rodrigo about the crime chart, he unearths a backpack from a hidden hiding spot in the treehouse, they unzip it and start to pull out whiteboard markers along with various electronics that has Rodrigo’s brows flying up into a pinched arch.

“Aren’t campers banned from having any sort of electronics,” he starts to ask as he eyes the laptop and mini wireless printer that Ayo has now placed on the ground, “so we can ‘ _ connect with nature _ ’?” His mouth pinches as he parrots what one of the camp counselors had told him during his orientation of the camp, right before they had held out a box containing other campers phones, kindles, laptops and assortment of other electronics for him to dump his phone into, with the promise that he’d get his stuff back once camp was over.

A low laugh, like the sound of a river snaking its way through a brook, fills the room. Senna uses the sleeve of her sweatshirt to wipe at the stray tears from the corner of her eyes. “Rodrigo, you seriously need to learn to break rules sometimes.”

“I have broken rules before!” Rodrigo huffs at her tone, incensed to prove her wrong.

“Really?” She cocks her head to the side as if she doesn’t believe him at all, “Tell me one.”

“I chewed gum in class when I was in Grade 7, even though we weren’t supposed to.”

A sharp snort rips itself from Senna’s lips, transforming itself into high pitched laughter that that has tears slipping from the corner of her eyes. “Ok, Mr. Rule Breaker,” she scoffs, moving toward the backpack that Ayo had plucked from its hiding place. Reaching into it, she pulls out a slim, dark smartphone that was a few years older than current models that were available for purchase. “Here,” she holds out the phone toward him, his lips are pursed in a skeptical look even as he hesitantly takes the phone from her hand. “It’s already hooked up to the wifi that all of the camp staff and counselors have access to, use it to read Shakespeare or whatever it is that you do when Stefan isn’t glued to your side.”

Rodrigo just blinks at her, he doesn’t have anything to say to her barbs about his personality. “Where did you get this?”

“Oh, relax, Rodrigo.” She chastises him, scooping up her container so that she can resume eating her cold dinner, “don’t worry about it, I have like five other burner phones in the backpack that Izzy connected to the camp wifi for me.”

He wonders who exactly this Izzy person is, but just simply mumbles his thanks at her. He watches her take a huge bite out of her chicken sandwich, a streak of mayo painting the corner of her lips. “Got it?” She manages to push out the question despite her mouth being full of food; this question is directed at Ayo who gives Senna a thumbs-up as the mini printer hums to life and spits out a picture of Paulette off of the camp’s website. Plucking a marker out of the backpack, she tosses it in Ayo’s direction who snatches it out of the air. “Start theorizing,” she tells him.

Nearly two hours later and the whiteboard was littered with a photo of Paulette’s face, a crude drawing of the beekeeper in one little corner and a dozen more little doodles laced with a smattering of words and lines that had been drawn on the surface. On the board, Senna had drawn an arrow from the beekeeper to Paulette’s picture. Her eyes had been crossed out with two thick X’s; Senna had enthusiastically explained to the both of them her theory about the beekeeper murdering Paulette because she’d complained last year at camp about the way the beekeeper was harvesting his honey. 

Ayo had shot down her idea with a laugh and grabbed their own marker to display their theory that Paulette had simply underestimated how quickly the woods could turn from friend to foe. 

Rodrigo had somehow been roped into this crazy experiment as well, from his crudely drawn doodle of Sasquatch in one corner—that in everyone’s opinion looked like a hairy rat and dog hybrid—he’d suggested that Paulette’s death had caused by the hands of the famous cryptid. Senna and Ayo had stared at him, their eyes wide with stupor until both of them had thrown their heads back and laughed at the crazy theory.

He glances out of the square cutout panel on one wall that serves as a window out into the woods. The sky is dark, just enough that shapeless clouds drift across blue-black waters, the stars are starting to peek out of the sky, providing light where the moon reigns absent. “Shit,” Rodrigo mutters out the expletive so quickly that he doesn’t have time to feel the flicker of embarrassment that he probably would if his parents had heard him. Hopping to his feet, Senna raises a brow in his direction.

“Have somewhere to be?” She asks him as he purses his lips at her and feels his cheeks warm. There’s a playful lilt to her lips and twinkle to her eyes like she knows exactly where he’s headed without him even saying so.

“What time is it?” He asks her, ignoring her question in favor of his own.

“It’s nine,” she replies coolly, “if you were planning on heading to the canteen, you have about 30 minutes before they close for curfew.” She starts to turn away from him but pauses in the movement. Lifting a single finger in the air, she glances over her shoulder at him, “if you’re planning on seeing Stefan, there’s a darkly lit path behind the canteen that’ll take you behind the water recreation shed and to the counselors’ cabin; the counselors rarely use it themselves so you should be fine.”

“Er, thanks?” Rodrigo for a moment wonders how she knows about the path but decides against asking her about it. He’s about to leave before Ayo calls out to him forcing him to stop.

“Rodrigo, if you ever need a place to just breathe and not be around people you’re more than welcome to use the treehouse whenever you need it.”

“Just don’t tell others about it though,” Senna warns him, her eyes narrowing and becoming pools of black that are devoid of all light that could penetrate them, “or I’ll throw your body in the lake.” She drags a finger across her neck and points it at him.

“Okay,” Rodrigo breathes out, slipping the newly acquired phone into the back pocket of his jeans as he blinks once, then twice as he struggles to determine if Senna was joking about disposing of his body into the lake. He bids both of them goodbye as he makes his way to the canteen just a few minutes before it closes, he buys a bunch of snacks and heads out onto the path Senna informed him about. His newly purchased prizes weighing down the green plastic in his hand. He manages to find his way to the brightly lit counselors' cabin. It’s a two-story cabin that looks homely and warm from the exterior. All the lights are on as he lurks outside of it, some cover being provided by the lengthy shadows of the woods behind him. He doesn’t know how he’s going to get in, much less if Stefan is even still awake or inside or even where his room is located.

Continuing to hang outside of the cabin, his gaze flickers the front door as he chews on his bottom lip, the flesh turning a bright shade of cherry pink as he worries it between his teeth. Hesitantly, he lifts a foot and is about to walk over to the front door and rap his knuckles against it when it swings open, unexpectedly, letting out a sea of warm light to unfurl itself like a carpet against the ground before the cabin.

Panic floods into his veins as Rodrigo turns and throws himself into some bushes to provide a source of cover. The shadow of a figure appears in the light, it lingers in the doorway for a single heartbeat before stepping outside. The shadow takes form, revealing Stefan standing just in front of the cabin door, his eyes are narrowed and pointedly staring at the bush Rodrigo is taking cover in. “Rodrigo?” There’s a lilt of amusement wrapped around Rodrigo’s name as the bush rustles and he pokes his head through the leaves.

“Er, hi?”

“What are you doing here?” Stefan quirks a brow at him, pulling the front door shut behind him, the rug of light disappears leaving both men standing in the lightly illuminated darkness. “It’s almost curfew.” 

“I know,” Rodrigo scratches at the back of his neck, “I just haven’t seen you all day, so I, uh—” he jerks the bag in his hand toward Stefan’s direction, “—I, uh, brought you some snacks.”

“Right,” Stefan bows his head, scratching at his own neck, there’s a tenderness to his words, a tenderness that Rodrigo has never heard before that’s filled with such a warmth that it reminds him of a weighted blanket. It’s warm and inviting and has Rodrigo’s lips curling into a smile despite his earlier nervousness. “It’s probably best for you to come in then.”

With Stefan leading the way, Rodrigo follows after him, a bit like a puppy following an older yet wiser dog. They head to the back of the cabin, where Stefan pushes open the door for the laundry room that leads into the kitchen that looks tidy and neat save for a few open bags of chips, other assortments of snacks and various types of alcohol along with red solo cups littered about. Curiosity must have painted itself onto Rodrigo’s face with the chuckle Stefan gives him. “Most of the camp counselors decided to throw a party.” Rodrigo can hear it, a deep electronic type music that causes the very walls to vibrate as they step out of the kitchen and into the hallway.

The living room is just to his right and he can spy most of the camp counselors huddled around couches as a trio of them stand in the middle of the living room playing the latest iteration of Just Dance.

Leading him down a flight of stairs that takes him to the basement level of the cabin, Stefan leads him to a door painted a deep shade of sangria, there’s a boat-shaped nameplate on the door with Stefan’s name written in embellished cursive. Pushing open the door, Rodrigo’s eyes widen in wonder as he takes in a room that seems so...Stefan. There’s little knick-knacks arranged on a dressed that’s pushed along one wall that he instantly flocks to. He runs his thumb over a roughly carved boat beside it is a photo of Stefan and his parents from when he was much younger. The corner of his father’s eyes crinkling in the same way that Stefan does whenever he laughs, his mother looks nothing like Rodrigo would have ever expected, in the photo she’s wearing a black leather jacket, her ears heavily pierced and her hair a shocking shade of vibrant pink that cascades down her back save for the symmetrical braid on either side of her head that wraps around her head and disappears down her back.

“Your mom looks—” Rodrigo blinks, unsure of what word would suit her. Eccentric? Resplendent? Debonair? 

“—wildly different?” Stefan offers, causing Rodrigo’s skin to crawl with fright as he quickly turns and spies the lifeguard just standing mere millimeters away from his shoulder. His dark eyes are pointed on Rodrigo for a brief second, something foreign swirling in them before his gaze pulls away from the camper and focuses on the family photo instead. “She always said meeting my dad was the one experience in life that made her believe in magic,” he carefully lifts the photo into his hand and stares at it, “she traded a rock career for a marriage and a kid, but—” he shrugs his shoulder, “—she always says she wouldn’t change her choice even if she could do it over again, besides,” his lips split into a grin, “she did teach me how to play the guitar.”

As he says that Rodrigo notices a guitar case propped up against the head of the bed, “Do you play it frequently?”

“Not as much as I would like,” Stefan sighs, placing the photo back onto the dresser, “apparently keeping other campers from trying to drown each other in the lake keeps me busy.”

“Oh, right!” Rodrigo utters as if he forgot about the bag he’s holding onto, “you should probably eat some of these before they melt.” He hands Stefan the bag, watching the lifeguard sit down on the edge of his king-sized bed, reaching into the bag he pulls out a Lion Lickers. “Sorry,” Rodrigo apologizes even though there’s no need to, “the canteen was all out of Cookie Cats.”

“It’s fine,” Stefan gives him a soft smile even as he unwraps the cold treat, revealing a misshapen pink lion’s head that looks nothing like a lion at all. He pats the bed beside him, a wordless offer for Rodrigo to sit.

“So,” Rodrigo twiddles his thumbs together as he sinks down into the mattress, “can I ask you a question?”

“You can,” Stefan murmurs, his teeth snapping off a corner of the lion’s head, he chews on the cold treat and for a second Rodrigo stares at him in awe even as he swallows it down and brings the treat up to his lips to bite into it again.

“Why do you hang out with me so much? I mean, I’ve never seen you hang out with the other campers as much as you do with me.”

Stefan pauses, the Lion Lickers hovering before his lips, his brows pressed together in suspicion at the unusual question, “Did something happen to bring all of this out?”

“No,” Rodrigo replies quickly, he gives Stefan a sharp shake of his head that ebbs a little bit of the tension in Stefan’s shoulder, causing them to slump in relaxation. “I was just wondering.”

Stefan pauses, lips pressed together so tightly that it seems like he doesn’t want to even answer the question at all. “Look,” he starts, “everyone that comes to this camp is there because they want to be. You’re the first person that I’ve ever met that doesn’t want to be here so when I saw you during orientation, I wanted to make sure you enjoy your time at camp even if you don’t want to be here.”

“Yea, but why you?” From the very little that Rodrigo knows about Stefan, he knows he wouldn’t lie; he’s never lied to Rodrigo before and while his words seem true, Rodrigo can’t help but feel that Stefan is holding back.

Cocking his head at him, a smile slips across Stefan’s lips. “If it wasn’t me, who else would it be? You didn’t seem very social on the first day of camp.”

He has a point, Rodrigo thinks to himself. But despite this, his cheeks darken anyway as he points out that he has other friends aside from Stefan.

“Like who?” Stefan chuckles, resuming eating his Lion Lickers. His question isn’t ignoble in nature, just inquisitive.

Rodrigo tells him about hanging out with Ayo and Senna today, he, of course, leaves out his little trip to the treehouse and coming up with theories surrounding Paulette’s death. Their conversation switches to more lighthearted topics with Rodrigo telling Stefan about his day and Stefan telling Rodrigo about a couple of counselors who got caught making out in a bush and ended up getting sprayed by a skunk for their troubles. They end up splitting the bag of snacks that Rodrigo brought with him. 

Pausing in the middle of eating a cookie, Rodrigo glances at Stefan. “How are you holding up?”

The question takes Stefan by surprise who quirks a brow at the camper. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?”

“Yea…” Rodrigo pauses, “but you seemed really close to Paulette…” he doesn’t tack on that Stefan seemed closer to her than Pierre or Percy and everyone knew those three were truly stuck to each other like flies on a flytrap.

A deep sigh rumbles from Stefan’s chest as he lifts his hand to scratch at the stubble gracing his jaw. He nods, once, a long sort of nod that comes with a complex buffet of emotions that Rodrigo can only taste the surface of. “Paulette and I...our families are close, we often went camping together in the summers when we were kids, so finding out she’s dead is like...losing a sister.”

With nothing to say to that, nothing at least that would comfort Stefan to the degree that he needed, Rodrigo lifts a hand and pats at Stefan’s broad shoulder. The action seems to comfort Stefan to some small degree.

“Thanks for the sweets,” Stefan points to the nearly empty bag, there are few cookies and chips left in there that haven’t been touched, “but it’s getting late and you should probably be heading back.” Stefan rises from the bed and brushes his hands against his pants. “I’ll go check to see if your camp counselor has gone to check your bunker yet.” 

Stefan leaves the room, leaving Rodrigo by himself. He checks out the other photos in the room, by the time Stefan comes back, there’s an exasperated look on his face as if he’s aged 50 years in the minute it took him to walk upstairs and check to see if Rodrigo’s assigned camp counselor has left yet. “Your camp counselor hasn’t left yet, he’s still here and apparently too busy making out with his girlfriend.”

Both of them head upstairs and out through the laundry room door once more. They stop in front of the cabin, Stefan’s hands are pressed against his hip as he turns to face Rodrigo. “Thanks for bringing me the snacks and trying to cheer me up.”

There’s a light burning in his eyes that resembles the sun, full of warmth and making Stefan look like himself despite the horrible news that had been delivered earlier in the day. They bid each other goodbye and Rodrigo’s taking the path back that he took earlier, he’s humming a tune to himself and paying less attention to his surroundings than he normally would. He doesn’t notice there’s someone else on the path until he crashes right into them.

“F—” he groans, staggering backward as he lifts his head to get a good look at who he crashed into.

“Oh my god!” The words rush out of Jasmine’s mouth as the tips of her fingers fly to her lips. “I’m so sorry,” her face twists as she tries to remember his name, “Ro—Roger?”

“Rodrigo,” he mutters, just a little bit dejected that she didn’t remember his name.

“What?” her face morphs in confusion.

“My name, it’s Rodrigo, not Roger.”

“Oh,” she seems slightly surprised, but doesn’t say anything else, just stands in the path awkwardly which has Rodrigo’s brows pinching in confusion.

It’s past curfew. Two hours past curfew in fact. He wonders why Jasmine is out so late and where she’s going seeing as she’s dressed in her regular clothes instead of pajamas and she looks equally as surprised to see Rodrigo on this path as he is her. “What are you doing here?” He ends up asking her, a silent  _ what are you doing out here _ tacked on to the end of it.

“I sometimes get a little restless,” she supplies, “so I go on walks to clear my head.”

He wonders if that’s what she was doing when he saw her sneaking out of her bunker. He can’t help this lilliputian feeling that settles into his core. There’s something about her words that just...doesn’t quite sound right to him, something off that he can’t quite see beyond the murky glass he’s trapped in. “Well,” he finally says after some time, “I was heading back to my bunker, did you...did you maybe want to walk back together?”

“Sure,” she nods, a warm smile quickly flashing across her face.

The two of them end up walking back to the bunkers together. Not much is said between them, there isn’t anything that Rodrigo can talk to her about aside from the fact that he thinks she’s pretty and has the biggest crush on her in the known universe. Those aren’t things he can say; things that he’d ever utter to her while he’s alive. They walk back to her bunker and Rodrigo bids her goodnight, not bothering to wait and see her in, she climbs up the steps of the bunker and idles on the porch watching Rodrigo’s retreating back as he heads to his own bunker. Jasmine waits, her eyes hawkish as she watches him walk up to his bunker and step inside of it. There is hardly a pause between her movements and her next as she turns around and descends back down the steps, walking towards the path she and Rodrigo had just walked down together. The shadows wrap around her like a cloak as she scuttles away into the forest, disappearing amongst the trees, leaves, and shadows; slipping away with her mouth full of secrets and lies, unaware of the pair of eyes that are focused on her as she moves through the shadows.


	4. Family Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few more characters get introduced this chapter, Izzy and Rodrigo's mother! Next chapter introduces more drama, Percy and Pierre get involved and we even get to meet Stefan's parents!

The one day that Rodrigo had been dreading was coming around the corner. The one day that Rodrigo had shoved into the back of his mind until now and that was—

“—Family day!” Hazel shouts atop her perch on the wooden picnic table. Her voice is a little too exuberant for Rodrigo’s taste, a mood that causes Rodrigo’s own to sour. “For those of you who are first-timers to the camp,” Hazel continues, holding an audience with the cluster of campers as if she was queen, “it’s a weekend event that begins tomorrow where your family, friends and loved ones are able to come up to camp and hang out with you. You’re free to hang out anywhere so long as you inform your respective camp counselor that you’ll be leaving the campgrounds. If any of you have any questions feel free to ask any of the camp counselors.”

As Hazel cycles through a couple more announcements—mostly about sticking to the curfew and how they’ve already caught a few campers not heeding it—Rodrigo tunes out much of the chatter to focus on the sea of thoughts frothing inside of him. Around him campers are happy at the chance of spending a weekend with their loved ones, an emotional sentiment Rodrigo doesn’t share with them, especially knowing the way his parents are. He’ll be lucky if he gets it past a single greeting before his parents find something about him that greatly disappoints them now. 

Hopefully, Rodrigo thinks to himself, neither one of them will bother showing up.

Later he’s down by the lake with Stefan and a bunch of other campers who are idly lazing in the water. It’s a perfect summer day as it can be, with the sun hanging in the sky, rotund and full of life. A warm breeze costs through the trees as Rodrigo points his camera lens down at the ground, his most recent snapshot of a deer hovering at the edge of the woods burned onto the film. A pair of dark sunglasses are resting on the bridge of Stefan’s nose as he slowly scans over the campers in the water from his seat in the lifeguard chair. He knows he should be in the water with the other campers, but Stefan has never once tried to push him out of the boundaries he’s comfortable with. They were like the sea and the shoreline, knowing when to ebb and flow in sync with each other. Stefan would never push him to do anything he didn’t want to unlike some of the other camp counselors.

“So, family day starts tomorrow,” Stefan’s tone is casual as he keeps his eyes posed on the lake, “are you excited to see your folks?”

A bitter laugh rumbles in Rodrigo’s throat, the reaction is so quick and heedless that he doesn’t have time to reign in the sound from the way Stefan’s eyebrows lift ever so slightly upon his face. “My parents won’t be showing up.”

“What?” Stefan’s lips quirk ever so slightly into a frown at Rodrigo’s words, “why? They won’t be able to make it?”

“No,” Rodrigo shakes his head, squinting his eyes slightly as the sun seems to shine down on him harder, “they just won’t come.”

There’s a revelation there; an unfortunate truth to Rodrigo’s words that causes Stefan to fall uncomfortably silent. Nothing is said between them until Stefan is leaning forward in his chair while simultaneously lifting his whistle to his lips. The sound comes loud and shrilly as he points to a pair of campers that were dunking each other’s heads underneath the lake. “Cut it out!” Stefan shouts, his voice booming across the vast space, “or I’ll force you to get out of the lake!”

Standing, Rodrigo brushes stray granules of dirt from off of his pants as he glances up at the lifeguard chair. “I should start heading to my photography workshop,” he tells him.

Stefan glances at him, a complicated expression worming across his face like he wants to say a million things to assure Rodrigo regardless of whatever happens over the weekend but can settle on none of them, except, “I’ll see you later for dinner.” With a nod Rodrigo departs, his camera clutched tightly in his hand.

He’s nearing the recreation center where many of the workshops the camp offers are held. He’s on a dirt path marked by bushes and tightly clustered trees on either side when a hand shoots out of some particularly high foliage, the hand clutches at the tail of his scarf and drags him into the foliage as a sharp yelp tears itself from his throat. Senna’s face pops into view on the other side of the foliage, her eyes shimmering with a sense of urgency as she thrusts her face into his personal space.

“We have an SOS at Camp David,” she hisses with an impatience that makes him nervous. He has no clue what anything she just said meant and from the thick sigh she gives him, he can tell she recognizes that too. “Ayo and I are having an emergency meeting at the treehouse, something you would know about if you checked the phone I gave you.”

“I don’t keep that on me,” he tells her once she releases the hold on his scarf, he straightens the material, “I keep it stashed away in my bunker.”

That doesn’t seem to please her, “You need to keep it on you; you’ll never know when there’s an actual emergency where we need to reach you wherever you are.”

He frowns at that, Senna’s words hitting a little too close to home and causing the back of his mind to find a similarity to her words and words he’s heard thousands of times before.

“Come on,” she gestures a lazy wave with her hand, not bothering to wait for Rodrigo to respond as she swivels on her heels and starts to walk away, but he doesn’t budge. She’s nearly a few steps away from him when she frowns at the distinct lack of foliage crumbling beneath feet. Glancing over her shoulder, she puts her hand on her hips and stares at him. “What now?”

“I don’t want to miss my photography workshop.”

Senna groans, it’s a loud and borderline obnoxious sound that reverberates off of the trees. “You won’t even be missing anything!” She pauses as a look of annoyance flashes across Rodrigo’s face briefly, “you have got to be kidding me, Rodrigo, do you actually enjoy that workshop!? The one workshop that what...three people take?”

“Actually it’s more like ten,” Rodrigo counters, “if you’re counting me.”

She shakes her head, blonde strands of hair brushing against her shoulders. “You have to live a little, Rodrigo, otherwise you’re gonna wake up at 80 in a nursing home and enjoy eating pudding for breakfast every morning.” She stares him down, her gaze so coercing that he can feel the ground shake beneath his feet, a chasm forming between the two of them with Senna holding out her hand to him as if it’s a lifeline to the other side. “What do you say, Rodrigo? Do you want to live a little or stay boring forever?” She quirks a brow at him, waiting for him to make his choice.

He sighs deeply, his grip on his camera tightening as he takes a step forward.

Rodrigo ends up following her back to the treehouse, his head is through the trap door when he spies a petite girl sitting crosslegged on the ratty couch tucked against a wall. She had a shoulder-length blonde bob with split ends and a slight two-tone quality to her hair; the tips a much darker shade of honeycomb blonde compared to the vanilla color of her roots. Her fingers fly quickly over the keys of the laptop awkwardly balanced in her lap, the lenses of her round glasses are so thick that they seem to obscure her eyes until Senna pokes her head through the trap door beside Rodrigo and shouts, “Izzy! We’re here.” She pushes past him and climbs into the treehouse. “How long have you been waiting here?”

Izzy, as she seems to be called, glances up at Senna, using her index finger to push her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Only 23 minutes and 15 seconds, but I skipped badminton to get here,” she huffs, “I still don’t comprehend why my parents couldn’t just send me to a STEM camp like I implored them too; there are so many benefits to going to a STEM camp rather than a physical one, but they claimed that me getting some sun and making friends far outweighed the pros of STEM camp, highly illogical,” Izzy mutters rapidly under her breath, continuing her personal tirade as she resumes typing furiously on her laptop.

A smile flits across Senna’s face at Izzy’s rant, she glances at Rodrigo and introduces him to her friend, “Rodrigo, this is Isadora—”

“—I prefer being called Izzy,” the nerdy camper remarks without bothering to glance up from the project she’s working on.

“What’s this I hear about people ditching their workshops just to hang out?” Poking their head through the trapdoor, Ayo smirks as they lift themselves through. “It almost sounds like none of us want to be here.”

“Well,” Senna grins, “ _I_ didn’t have a choice coming here.” Rodrigo wonders exactly what she means by that as she claps her hands together sharply and suggests, “our little group should come up with a name.”

“I propose we should call ourselves the Hidden Figures,” Izzy sniffs, finally lifting her head to address them.

“Not all of us are nerds like you and Rodrigo, here.” Senna points out, her lips curling into a grin as everyone tosses out a variation of names with none of them seeming to stick.

There were suggestions of calling the group the “mystery gang” or even “the undead campers.” Though, Rodrigo had to admit that the latter idea sounded better than any they came up with so far.

Finally, Ayo suggests, “What about the underdogs?” 

Tapping a finger against her chin, Senna nods in agreement, “It’s catchy and original...what about you guys?” Her gaze flickers from Rodrigo to Izzy.

“It’s a suitable choice,” Izzy says, everyone’s eyes fixating on Rodrigo at last.

“I like it,” he tells them with a soft nod of his head.

“Underdogs it is then,” with a grin, Ayo gives themself a high five which earns them a roll of Senna’s eyes

“So, to the reason, we called you all here,” Senna sweeps her gaze at the others, “Paulette’s family are coming to the camp tomorrow to come and collect her things.”

“Oh?” Ayo questions, “and how’d you find that out?”

“I may or may not have made out with a counselor in the woods for ten minutes just learn about it.”

A look of displeasure flashes across Ayo’s face, it’s so minute that no one picks up on it, no one except Rodrigo who notices the way Ayo’s mouth subtly moves with vexation. It almost seems like Ayo is...jealous...of the situation?

“Why is it important to know when her family is coming? Also, why am I here?” Senna rolls her eyes at Rodrigo’s questions, crossing her arms in front of her as she turns to address him.

“Don’t you want to know what happened to Paulette?” Senna sighs, “what truly happened to her and not the bullshit we’ll be fed in a few months of how maybe Paulette died of natural causes or some rabid animal attack? There’s something fishy about her death and I intend on finding out what it is, even if it means having to go through her family to do it.” He can’t disagree with her, her plan makes the most sense, so all he does is nod. “I’m going to find Paulette’s little sister, dial up the fake tears to a hundred, and squeeze out as much info as I can from her.”

“Yea, but what if your plan doesn’t work,” Rodrigo frowns, while it sounded simple enough he knew that anything and everything could go wrong in her efforts. 

“The plan _will_ work,” Senna insists, determination burns brightly in her eyes. “Look, if I learn anything important I’ll text everyone and we’ll meet up here. Ayo and I are going to head out first, but you and Izzy can just leave together.” With that, Senna and Ayo leave, leaving Rodrigo and Izzy behind. 

“Well, I suppose that means the two of us should be heading elsewhere as well,” Izzy pushes up her glasses on her nose.

The two of them walk back toward camp together, engaged in a heated debate about the current season of Doctor When after Izzy casually joked about a moment from the show that seemed to relate to their current situation. 

“This latest season is highly illogical!” Izzy protested, her cheeks puffing outward as she and Rodrigo continued to walk, “years of canon lore about the Doctor and her regenerations only for this latest season to toss all of that out and suggest she was a war criminal in the first place!? That’s not a brilliant plot twist, it’s merely lazy writing.”

“I don’t know,” Rodrigo’s lips curl up nervously into a smile, “I quite enjoy this latest season.”

Izzy’s face turns a vivid shade of red as they approach the camp, it’s so red that Rodrigo thinks he’s broken her brain. They’re passing by the canteen when Stefan walks up the little narrow path that leads up from the lake to the building, a curious and delighted expression flits across his face when he sees Rodrigo hanging out with another camper.

“Rodrigo, who’s your new friend?”

“I’m Izzy,” she lifts her hand up and gives a single wave of her hand before wrapping it around the strap of the backpack on her shoulder.

“I doubt you’ve ever taken any of the recreational watersports workshops the camp has to offer, have you? Otherwise, I feel like I would have seen you before.”

“It’s because I choose to recreationally avoid activities that don’t allow me to sneak off and pursue my true passions.” A single brow on her face arches as Stefan laughs heartily at her words. “I’ll see you around camp some other time, Rodrigo.” Izzy leaves, leaving the two men by themselves.

“Want to grab lunch together?” Stefan asks, jerking his chin at the canteen where the smell of freshly baked pizza tickles at Rodrigo’s nose, his lips part to answer for him but it’s cut off by the loud rumble of his stomach.

Throwing his head back, Stefan laughs as he clamps a hand onto Rodrigo’s shoulder and steers him into the canteen.

  
  


It’s Saturday morning and Rodrigo sighs to himself as he slips on his boots. There isn’t much on his schedule for today, he and Stefan plan on grabbing breakfast together but aside from that he might use the rest of the day to paint a watercolor landscape of the lake and crack open the new Doctor When book he’d bought that expanded upon the Tylinear crisis or he could sit down and finally reply to the letter his friend from his hometown had sent him early in the week that he hadn’t gotten around to replying to yet.

He makes his way out of his bunker and finds Stefan perched on the stone hearth that serves as the focal point for the ring of bunkers. The sun’s low in the sky, casting perfect golden rays that seem to cut through the numerous clouds hovering above them, for a fleeting second Rodrigo wonders if it’ll rain later in the day but such thoughts are dispersed when Stefan’s eyes light up upon seeing him. “Ready to go?” Rodrigo nods at the question as Stefan rises to his feet.

Their walk up to the canteen is surrounded by blissful silence with the occasional light-hearted conversation stirred in. “Don’t you have to guard the lake?” Rodrigo glances at Stefan, the lifeguard’s dark tightly coiled curls bounce with the shake of his head.

“Nah, the lake isn’t being used right now since most of the camper’s either decided to go white water rafting today or are hanging out with their friends and family. So I’m free for most of the day.”

“Most of the day?” 

“Yea, my parents are coming down later, so we—”

Whatever he was going to say is cut off by a trembling voice so hollow with sadness that Rodrigo can’t help but feel a pang of empathy for the redheaded woman standing before them. Her eyes are wet as if she’s been crying, beside her stands her husband and a much younger daughter who looks to be about 15. From the daughter’s bright red hair and the woman’s face that seems so similar to Paulette’s own, he deduces that they must be her family. “Stefan?” Paulette’s mother’s lips curl ever so slightly as if the grief of even saying his name took what little energy she had.

“Mrs. Sorensen,” Stefan’s lips part open, his tone so soft that Rodrigo has never heard it before until this very moment; his voice sounds minuscule as if he’d spoken after eons of disuse. “How...how are you?”

“Good, I suppose, considering the circumstances...” Mrs. Sorensen smiles, the warmth of such an action doesn’t quite match the teary, bloodshot look of her eyes.

The wooden porch of the canteen creaks with weight as Ayo and Senna walk out, the two of them are engaged in conversation that quickly ceases the moment Senna’s eyes land upon Rodrigo, swivel to Stefan and then to Paulette’s family. She glances back at Rodrigo, her eyes burning with a silent question that he can only give a small shrug to.

Paulette’s family stares at Stefan, a dreary cloud full of grief hanging over all of their heads. No one says anything to each other for quite some time, neither person seeming to know what to say. “Uh, Stefan, breakfast?” Rodrigo hooks his thumb toward to canteen, drawing Stefan out of his silent stupor.

“Right,” the lifeguard nods glumly, his eyes flicking up to stare at Paulette’s parents. “I’ll...talk to you guys later.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Sorensen nods, “we’ll be in Paulette’s bunker, cleaning out—” she pauses, her throat tightening at the words, “we’ll be cleaning out—” she tries to push them out once more, but sharply shakes her head as fresh tears slip out of the corner of her eyes. A trembling hand presses itself against her mouth as her husband pats her shoulder and draws her body closer to his.

“You’ll know where to find us later, son.” Mr. Sorensen nods at Stefan as he urges his wife and youngest daughter down the path to the bunkers.

Senna and Ayo walk down the canteen steps with Ayo waving goodbye to Senna as she quickly hurries past Stefan and Rodrigo, she spares Rodrigo a quick glance. His eyes settle upon another figure standing on the porch of the canteen, Jasmine leans against the rail, a queer expression coloring her face that disappears so quickly that Rodrigo thinks he must have imagined it. A small smile slips across her face as she greets both of them before heading off with one of her friends. 

Rodrigo and Stefan grab lunch, despite lunch being pizza day Stefan isn’t up for much of a conversation after his run-in with Paulette’s family. Rodrigo doesn’t blame him as they eat in silence, after lunch he ends up walking back to his bunker alone, luckily none of his bunkmates are there. Walking up to his bed, Rodrigo drops down to his knees and pulls his suitcase out from underneath the bed. He unzips it and reaches inside for his hardcover copy of Catcher in the Rye and pushes it open; the book’s interior is hollowed out, which with any other piece of literature would have caused Rodrigo distress at having to defile, but his hatred of the book left him no ill will at carving it out to make a hiding space. Inside of the carved-out book is the phone Senna had given him. Checking it, he finds a text from Senna for the underdogs to meet at El Dorado during dinner with the following text that snacks would be provided along with a million emojis that Rodrigo had very little understanding of their meaning.

It’s much later during dinner when Rodrigo finds himself in the treehouse, his skin is warm from having spent much of the day near the quiet waters of the lake. His fingers are streaked from his watercolor inks, a splash of purple covering the side of his middle finger and blue streaked across his thumb. 

Senna’s pacing as usual, though this time her face is streaked with stress. ‘Did you talk to Paulette's sister like you planned?” Ayo asked, tracking Senna’s pacing with their eyes.

“I did,” Senna mumbled, refusing to cease her painting as she chews on the nail of her thumb, “turns out my hunch was right and she was murdered.”

Everyone’s eyes go wide at the shock of the news that was just delivered, “Did—did her sister actually say that?” Rodrigo whispers.

“No...not exactly,” Senna amends, “she just said that when the family went down to identify the body that they were told Paulette’s death was...unusual and that foul play was suspected. That’s all the family knows for now. But it isn’t hard to conclude that Paulette was murdered.”

“Murdered?” Rodrigo shakes his head, his eyes slightly wide, “but who would do that here?” 

“I don’t know,” she murmurs, finally stopping to pinch the bridge of her nose, “but I do know one thing,” she stares at each of the underdogs, her eyes burning with a furious determination. “We’re going to be the ones to get to the bottom of this.”

  
  


Rodrigo’s back is pressed against the wall of his bunker, one leg crossed over the other as he flips through pages of his sketchbook, he flips past rough sketches of various sceneries he’s seen around camp, random campers and counselors, he pauses on a single page, a rough charcoal sketch of Stefan gazing serenely over the lake, another sketch of the lifeguard smiling, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he bites into a slice of pepperoni and bell pepper pizza. Flipping over to a new page, Rodrigo presses the tip of a pencil against the blank canvas as he summons something to his mind to sketch onto it.

A knock on the bunker door puts a pause to the activity, however, forcing Rodrigo to glance around the empty room as he pauses. He waits for the person on the other side to enter, assuming that it’s one of his cabinmates, but when they don’t come inside he sighs and stands up in the empty room. Crossing the few strides it takes to get to the door, he throws it open and is surprised to find a camp counselor standing on the porch.

“Are you Rodrigo?” He nods, “You have a visitor at the pavilion, you should follow me.” He quickly slips on his boots and follows the counselor up to the pavilion, a cluster of families and friends surround campers, all of them so eager to see each other again. Rodrigo wonders who could possibly be here for him. His father would never miss a day off of work unless it benefited him in some way to be elsewhere, his mother would be consumed by the daily activities it took to run the family business and both sets of his grandparents would likely be enjoying their retirements and would find it a strain physical to drive several hours just to see Rodrigo at camp.

It wasn’t like he had much of a friend group either with the few friends he did have living in other countries or remote parts of Canada. He’s confused until he stops in his steps upon seeing an immaculately dressed woman with her eyes pointedly staring at her phone. She seems so out of place that others glance at her as they pass.

“Excuse me, miss?” The woman glances up at the counselor who addresses her, “I brought your son for you.”

“Thank you,” Rodrigo’s mother replies in a tone that gets straight to the point while being simultaneously dismissive. She wears a two-piece suit that’s bone white, a suit that Rodrigo knows costs more than most make in a few months, and despite the casual outfits that many around him wear, he would never once dream of his mother wearing sweat pants or even a shirt.

Her features are regal, with high cheekbones and lips that seem small compared to the other features of her face. Her eyes are slim yet cat-like as she pointedly stares at her son and blinks at him. “Rodrigo, how are you?”

“I’m well, mother.” She frowns sharply at him, gives him a disappointed once over that he’s been on the receiving end of all of his life. “Do you want to go up to the canteen and grab something to eat?”

Her lips pucker together, she’s about to say something before she’s cut off by the sharp ring of her phone, she holds up a single finger at him and turns away as she accepts the call. Sighing with disappointment, his gaze briefly flicks to her assistant, a young woman who stands close to his mother who gives Rodrigo a small smile that he pitifully returns. Finishing her call, his mother spins on her heels and presses her hands to her hips. “Sorry about that dear, but what were you saying?”

“I was asking if you wanted to get lunch?”

“No,” she shakes her head sharply, the movement not even disturbing the perfectly coiled locks of her raven-colored hair. “I won’t be staying long anyway,” she turns to her assistant, “pencil in a 5 o’clock with the Matsuaji’s, find something upscale but palatable to all tastebuds.” Her assistant nods and moves away to make a series of phone calls, turning her attention back to her son she regards him with a look as if she’s had to move much of her busy schedule around just to be there for him. “I’m only here to drop off a few things for you that you left behind.”

Left behind? Rodrigo wishes to scoff, he didn’t leave anything behind when he was forced into the car and dumped in front of the camp with the bare minimum of things he needed and the few things he could quickly pack into a backpack when he walked downstairs to see the family driver moving his things to the car. He glances around at the other families and friends who are making plans with each other, either heading to the canteen or some other part of the camp to catch up. Meanwhile, he’s standing with his mother who showed up for a few minutes and is already eager to be on her way.

The disappointment must be showing on his face as she glances up from her phone and sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers, she grimaces. “Fine, I can stay for a few moments but I do have to get back to work, Rodrigo, I can’t afford to miss these meetings.”

He leads her down to a section of the lake where there are benches overlooking the calm water. Grills stick up out of the earth like forgotten flowers, inviting yet untouched until the festivities of the Color War. His mother frowns at the bench Rodrigo takes a seat on as if the very presence of dark wood will somehow ruin her pristine skirt; she elects to stand instead, the tips of her heels sinking into the soft earth.

Behind them both, neither mother or son notices the lifeguard walking down the dirt worn path, a greeting weighing down his tongue that’s ready to spring forward from his mouth but died in his throat as Rodrigo’s mother crosses her arms in front of her chest and tells her son, “I’m disappointed in you.”

Rodrigo grows smaller underneath the tired tone of her words, words that she’s repeated so many times that he can’t help but shrink underneath them still.

“Your father and I had to find out just this week that you didn’t even fill out the college applications we set out for you?” A single pinky curls away from her closed fist, “or that you didn’t even apply for that internship I got for you for this summer, do you know how many strings and favors I had to pull to get it?” Her ring finger curls away from her next.

“I’m sorry, mother,” he mumbles so softly that she doesn’t even hear it.

“We sent you to this camp because your father and I believed you needed to get out of your shell, that you needed some direction in life and confidence in your life since you seem so devoted to not following the career plan that your father and I crafted for you.”

That’s the point, Rodrigo thinks bitterly to himself, his cheeks growing hotter by the second, it was the plan his parents had crafted for him. A plan that he had no say in at birth and even now. “I don’t want to take over the family business,” he meekly tells her, “and I don’t want to become a doctor like dad either.”

His mother ignores him with a sharp shake of her head and instead continues on her tirade, “Your father and I are so deeply disappointed in your for not getting into my alma mater or even applying to the pre-med program he was in when he was your age.”

“They wouldn’t have accepted me!” His frustration boils in his blood causing his mother to stare at him sharply. 

“You don’t know that!” She hisses, “they would have accepted you based on your father’s name alone.”

“Well, it’s not what I want,” the words he’s kept at bay rush out of him so quickly that his mother’s gaze narrows so quickly that it truly makes her look like a feline.

“Well, what is it that you want to do? What is it that you plan to do with your life?” 

It’s a good question, one he doesn’t have a concrete answer for, but he tells her, “I got accepted into university, the one the next city over.”

“Oh? And what are you planning to study?”

“Literature or some sort of art,” his voice is small and meek, he feels like when he was a kid and brought home B’s on his report cards to the disappointed leers of his parents who expected their son to get nothing but A’s.

Instead of being happy for him, happy that her son has some goal in his life, his mother just sighs and presses her lips firmly together. “Your father and I are going to have to talk about this when I get back home.” Holding up a hand, she places it between them, her fingers curling ever so slightly before she lets the limb just fall loosely to her side. “We hoped...sending you away to this camp, Rodrigo, would make you come out of your shell, help you make some friends or even just put some common sense in your brain and not these outlandish fantasies of yours.” Her phone chirps in her hand, she glances at it and then at her son. 

His cheeks are burning from embarrassment, his hands clasped together with his gaze pointed at his feet. “I have to go back to work...we’ll talk later once your father and I figure out what can be done about your education and I’ll have my assistant leave your things in your bunker.” He hears her say before turning on her heels and walking back up the dirt path. She pauses when she notices Stefan just standing there but gives him a sharp nod that he returns.

Sighing, Stefan lifts a hand and rakes his fingers through his curls as he continues down the pathway until he reaches the bench and silently sits down beside Rodrigo. Strands of Rodrigo’s hair serves as a curtain that obscures his eyes, but Stefan doesn’t need to see his face to see the small quivers of his shoulders or the wet droplets that curl down his cheeks and cling to his chin before hitting the tip of his boots.

“Rodrigo—” Stefan tries to start but is cut off by a sharp shake of his friend’s head.

“I haven’t eaten lunch,” Rodrigo’s voice is shakey as he forces himself to push them out, “do you want to grab something?”

“We can...we can go up whenever you’re ready,” Stefan tells him.

They end up going to the canteen about 15 minutes later, despite his earlier emotions Rodrigo forces himself to engage in conversation with Stefan, asking him about his plans with his parents later and ignoring the one-sided conversation between him and his mother that Stefan had been an unfortunate witness to.

Later in the day when the stars are streaked across the Prussian blue colored sky. There’s a knock on the bunker door that Rodrigo pushes open since none of his cabinmates are back yet and he’s almost surprised to find Stefan standing just outside the door.

“Stefan? What are you doing here? I thought you were going to hang out with your parents?” Suprise bleeds into his voice when he notices Stefan sheepishly standing on the porch, a tote bag in his hand with his other shoved into the pockets of his jeans.

“I was,” Stefan shrugs, his cheeks a dusty shade of pink, “but we had a change of plans. Are you busy?” Rodrigo shakes his head no. “Then do you want to hang out? I brought some snacks with me.”

They end up walking to the lake and find a picnic bench to sit on as they gaze up at the stars. There are cans of soda in the tote along with a Tupperware of brownies with Hershey kisses baked into them. “It’s a family recipe,” Stefan tells him, that same shade of pink now streaked across his nose, “you looked like you could use something sweet to cheer you up,” he adds.

Rodrigo’s gotten through two of the brownies and about half a can of a soda when he speaks, “Stefan—”

The lifeguard holds up his hand between them, cutting Rodrigo off, he simply smiles and shakes his head. “We don’t need to talk right now,” the lifeguard tells him, “not if you don’t want to, but I’ll be here whenever you’re ready to. I’m here for you, Rodrigo, I’m not going anywhere.”

Rodrigo can feel his eyes stinging, he rapidly blinks the tears away as he resumes sipping his soda and staring out at the stars. Stefan’s warmth radiating against his own body as their bodies naturally lean against each other, he doesn’t say anything when the tips of Stefan’s fingers brush against his own, instead, he lets himself sink into the warmth as the forest stirs to life around him.


	5. Thick of Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is the Writer's Nook, as previously mentioned it's just a simple chapter where Peridot answers fan questions, talks about the fic or her processing for writing it, and often includes some commentary from Steven himself. As always feel free to ask any questions in the comment below, anything you want Peridot to see or respond to, I won't know when I'll be posting the Writer's Nook, but I'll take the time to compile all questions and stuff to have Peridot answer them. 
> 
> **So feel free to ask any question you like so it has the chance to be featured in the next Writer's Nook!**

Dark eyes snap open to the near darkness of the bunker. The moon is absent from the sky where it normally would provide little slivers of light for all who found themselves up at the witching hour. Snores and soft breaths are the only things that stir about in the room, aside from the only bed where its occupant lies awake. She lies there for a few moments before pushing aside the sheets on her bed and pressing her bare feet to the cool floorboards, rising out of bed she sinks to her knees and reaches underneath the bed for a tiny lock box with a simple keyhole. Reaching beneath the collar of her tanktop, her fingers slipping around a cord of leather that she pulls up to reveal a silver key that she inserts into the lockbox until she hears the soft click of its lock. Throwing open the lid reveals the contents of the lockbox, resting atop the rest of the items is a simple leather bracelet with a silver plate onto which is etched the initials  _ P&P _ . Resting beneath it is a ladybug hair clip, a baseball card, and a few other momentums that range in style and interests.

Jasmine glances around her to double-check that her cabinmates are asleep before slipping on a pair of shoes as she stuffs the lockbox underneath her arm. She heads out of the cabin and starts her trek into the woods, foliage crunching beneath her feet with only a quiet stillness to serve as her companion that’s broken every so often by the sharp hoots and cries of animals that can’t be seen. She doesn’t stop until she’s in the middle of the woods, surrounded by dry bramble and the sound of her own breathing. She glances around her, sets the box down on the ground, and begins to drag some of the dryest sticks she can find and tosses them into a haphazard pile. She finds pine needles that are dry and brittle that she tosses on top of the branches, satisfied with her work she reaches into the pocket of her shorts and retrieves a matchbook. 

Opening it, she retrieves a single match, twirls it between her index finger and thumb, and strikes the tip against the coarser surface. The tip sparks to life, a small tiny orange flame flickering on the tip that she eyes as if its the single most beautiful painting she’s ever witnessed in her entire life. Jasmine holds her breath as she pinches the match tightly between her fingers and flicks it outward to the bundle of pine needles and branches she has assembled. The pile crackles as the flame licks and laps at the offering she’s fed it, the warm orange glow of the fire casting shadows over her face as she bends down to retrieve the box.

Flipping it open, Jasmine reaches inside and plucks the bracelet out, she holds it between her fingers the light of the fire catching on the metal plate and causing it to shine. Shrugging her shoulders she tosses the object into the fire, the flames licking at it hungrily as Jasmine reaches in and starts tossing in the other objects in the lockbox into the flames one after the other. What Jasmine doesn’t realize is that she isn’t the only person in the woods tonight, some distance away, tucked behind a tree, the silent beekeeper watches her as the flames illuminate her body in a contrasting show of light against darkness.

  
  


Rodrigo watches with the rest of the underdogs as Senna paces in front of them all. He starts to worry that her increased pacing will cause the wooden floors beneath her feet to begin to smoke with how long she’s been pacing back and forth before them. She suddenly stops, her brows pushed together and her lips parted as if she’s about to speak, but shakes her head and instead resumes her actions.

“Hello,” Ayo waves a hand at her, “earth to Senna, have something you want to share?” They quirk a brow at their best friend causing the blonde to stop in her tracks as she taps a single finger against her lips.

“Things are unusual,” she blurts out.

Her words are followed by silence until Rodrigo asks, “Unusual how?”

“I was doing some research,” she tells them, “about the local area and I came across something...odd. Over the past five years, multiple campers have gone missing only to have their bodies later discovered either in the woods or somewhere else on the camp property.”

“Ok,” Ayo frowned, clearly disturbed by this new piece of news, “if you’re saying multiple campers have gone missing these past few years and turned up dead, why are we only just hearing about this now? Wouldn’t have been covered in the news or plastered somewhere online?”

“That’s the problem,” Senna confirms, the corner of her lips wrinkling, “I tried digging into all of these deaths after looking up death records for all of them—which is public information by the way—after all of them were labeled as either accidents or wild animal attacks, but here’s the problem: all the records were sealed.”

Everyone simply stared at her, confusion painted across their faces. “Sealed?” Izzy frowns, her fingers pausing against the keys of her laptop. “Are you sure you were looking at the right files?”

With a roll of her eyes, Senna lets out a puff of breath from her nose, “I was looking at the right files, Izzy, and trust me they were sealed up tighter than a government coverup.” Lifting a hand she uses it to massage the wrinkles forming on her forehead. “Things like that wouldn’t be the norm for this area, especially when more people in Wolf Creek die of moose related accidents than foul play. There’s a weird pattern here,” that last line she more or less mutters to herself before glancing at Izzy. “Do you think if you get the files you can take a stab at unsealing them?”

Izzy nods despite the skeptical looks painting Rodrigo and Ayo’s faces. “Won’t you get caught?”

The question causes a smile to slip across Senna’s lips, “Oh, Mr. Rule Breaker...Izzy and I never get caught.” 

After leaving the treehouse once Senna had broken up the meeting, Rodrigo finds himself in the middle of his photography workshop. He’s down by the lake, taking pictures of random swimmers, people playing a leisurely game of water polo, and Stefan who’s perched on the lifeguard chair who smiles and waves when he spots Rodrigo’s camera pointed on him.

Rodrigo’s in the middle of taking a photo when the sharp tap of an index finger on his shoulder causes him to startle. Turning quickly, he’s surprised to find Jasmine standing behind him. Her hair and skin are dripping wet and she’s wearing a forest green bikini that shows off a considerable amount of flesh that makes Rodrigo flush pink. It doesn’t cross his mind that he never noticed her in the lake nor did he ever notice her getting out of it either. 

“Rodrigo,” she flashes her teeth at him, lulling him with a sense of familiar fondness.

“Yea?” He tries to keep his eyes on her face, even as droplets of water curl down her neck and slide down into the valley of her chest; his face seems to flush harder 

“I’m sorry about the other day,” she continues to smile, “I was wondering if I could make it up to you by grabbing lunch?” 

“The other day?” Rodrigo pushes the words out of his mouth slowly, slowly enough that he tries to rack his memories for things that Jasmine could have done to him that were worthy enough of an apology.

“When I bumped into you at night on the path.”

“Oh!” Rodrigo nods his head, “but you want to...grab lunch with me?” His heart flutters inside of his chest, his lips parting to answer her but he’s stopped by a meaty hand clasping itself onto his shoulder and tugging him so that he nearly crashes into Stefan’s side.

“Hey, Rodrigo, ready to go to lunch?”

Jasmine’s long eyelashes flutter against her cheek as she tips her head back and laughs. Rodrigo thinks it’s a beautiful and alluring sound, like the finest piece of music that could be composed. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you had plans already, Rodrigo. If I’d known I’d have rescheduled.”

“No, no,” he tells her hastily, “I didn’t really have any plans,” he glances at Stefan, “I mean I regularly eat lunch with Stefan, but I didn’t—” he stumbles over his words as Jasmine soothingly smiles at him.

“It’s fine,” she turns her award-winning smile on Stefan, “I just invited Rodrigo out to grab lunch with me, but it’d be fun if you tagged along too.”

The three of them head up to the canteen where there’s nearly a long line out the door for lunch as it’s hot dog and hamburgers for lunch today with curly fries and other sides. The three of them manage to grab some food and find a seat at the end of one of the tables. They make light conversation with one another until Jasmine starts to question Rodrigo about himself; she asks him a variety of questions, like where he’s from—Starlight City—or even his interests—literature, art and photography—and other questions about himself that has Rodrigo telling her more about himself than he’s ever told anyone before.

“—and then,” Rodrigo hiccups with laughter, “—turns out I’m allergic to poutine! I was so red and itchy for a week afterward that my grandmother thought I’d gotten into some poison ivy.”

Stefan laughs at the story, tears prickling in the corner of his eyes as his shoulders relax with a level of comfort that most people would take a while to achieve. Rodrigo’s eyes swivel to him at the sound of his laughter, their fingers so close on the table that when Stefan shifts, the tip of them just brush against Rodrigo’s own. He relaxes a little more at the minute movement, his eyes slowly drifting open, he glances up and freezes at the blank look on Jasmine’s face. He doesn’t know how to describe it. It’s almost like looking at a face cast that’s been detailed to be hyper-realistic. Her eyes are devoid of all light, face so smooth that she doesn’t seem human—at least not human in the way someone with emotions would be. Stefan shivers, finding that it almost feels like staring into darkness only for the darkness to blink back. 

He thinks his mind is just playing tricks on him with how quickly Jasmine’s ever-present smile slips across her face as she laughs at Rodrigo’s childhood story as well.

“So, Stefan,” Jasmine smiles at him as she rests her chin against the palm of her hand, “I don’t really know much about you, where did you say you were from?”

“Crystal Lake,” he responds in between bites of his chicken sandwich.

“Ooh,” Jasmine hums, “Crystal Lake’s pretty during the summer.”

“You’ve been there?” He quirks his brow at her.

“Once or twice,” she says it in an offhanded, nonchalant way that has Stefan’s mouth souring as she gives a small shrug of her shoulders. He wants to ask her what that’s about when one of her friends calls over to her. 

Jasmine flashes an apologetic smile at them both, “Looks like my friends are calling me; wish I could have hung out with you both for longer, but Rodrigo we should hang out together at some point.”

Stefan doesn’t point out that she left him out of the “let’s hang out later” half of her invitation as she gets up and leaves. She’s barely gone for a second before Rodrigo’s already gushing over her. His words range from “she’s so pretty” to him gushing over the fact that she took a considerable interest in him. Stefan’s only paying half attention to his words, uttering out a feeble, “yea,” whenever Rodrigo waits for a response.

He thinks back to the blank look upon Jasmine’s face when he had looked up; that blank face that made him feel like he was staring into a pool of darkness that threatened to suck him in. The imagery makes his skin crawl, cold dread slithering around his spine like the touch of a serpent. He speaks up once Rodrigo’s finished eating, suggests the two of them go for a stroll around the lake.

They walk for a bit until Stefan comes to a stop near the eastern dock, his hands are shoved into his pockets as he purses his lips together, “Rodrigo...did Jasmine seem strange to you during lunch?”

Rodrigo frowns as he bends down to pick up a smooth rock, he runs his thumb over its flat surface, “Strange in what way?”

Stefan pauses, taking a good look at Rodrigo and the dreamy look fluttering in his eyes that he got whenever Jasmine was brought up. He doesn’t want to ruin it, so he shakes his head and says, “It’s...nothing. Nevermind.”

Rodrigo glances at him, eyes slightly wrinkled around the edges before he turns his gaze back to the lake and throws the stone. It skips across the surface; once, twice until there’s a nearly muted  _ gloop _ as the stone sinks beneath the surface of the lake.

Rodrigo wipes his hand against the surface of his jeans as he walks up the path to the bunkers. The sun’s dipping a little low in the sky, not quite sunset but just enough that Rodrigo guesses that there’s maybe a few hours of daylight left. He’s nearly near the firepit in the center of the ring of bunkers when he feels the vibration of the cellphone in his back pocket. Rushing towards his bunker, he finds no one is there yet, so he reaches into his back pocket and slips the phone out.

Senna’s texted everyone to tell them that she and Izzy managed to get into the sealed files, that she has some news that needs to be shared so everyone should meet at the large tree next to the archery field so they can all walk to the treehouse together.

Rodrigo’s the third person there when he arrives, finding Senna and Izzy already next to the tree. Ayo’s the only one running a little late by the impatient tap of Senna’s foot; Rodrigo and Izzy are passing time talking about the Doctor When series when Ayo comes around the bend of a copse of bushes. There’s another camper clinging to Ayo, a girl with mousy brown hair that Rodrigo’s seen a few times. She giggles at something Ayo says and brushes a lock of hair away from her neck in a flirtatious manner. 

Senna lets out a noise of displeasure, her arms crossing a little tighter in front of her chest that draws Izzy and Rodrigo’s attention to her for a brief moment. 

“I’ll see you later.” Ayo lifts a hand and waves at the girl who smiles warmly at him. She briefly glances at Senna as she passes by, her eyes raking over the blonde for a few brief seconds as if she’s sizing up a potential predator that’s trying to encroach on her territory. A preponderant smirk flits across her face as Senna’s cheeks flush scarlet red.

“You’re late!” Senna staps the moment Ayo comes closer to them, her words are so harsh and chilly that her longtime friend jerks their head back as if they’ve been slapped by her words.

“Woah,” Ayo raises a single brow on their smooth face, “what caused you to wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?”

“Just hurry up,” she snaps at him, swiveling on her heels and stalking off toward the treehouse. Ayo shares a glance with Rodrigo and Izzy, but the two simply shrug their shoulders and follow after Senna; neither member of the group notices the two sets of eyes that follow after them.

When all four of them are finally settled in the treehouse, Senna reaches into her backpack and pulls out a stack of manila folders that she tosses onto the low table in the makeshift living room. “For the last five years that we could find, there’s been campers who’ve gone missing only for their bodies to turn up later. A couple were found in the lake, with autopsy reports pointing to the fact that they had clearly drowned, despite only one of the campers that were found in the lake wearing a lifejacket.” Senna leans down and flips open some of the folders, exposing the photos of lifeless bodies floating in the lake. “Other bodies were discovered in the woods, or randomly on the campgrounds, but all of them went reported as either being either an accident or drownings, the normal type of deaths that you’d commonly find in an area like this.”

“So, what’s the problem then?” Ayo’s question causes annoyance to flicker across Senna’s face as she taps on a photo of a dead body for emphasis.

“The problem,” she sighs, “is that all of these deaths were kept hush-hush, someone went through the process of sealing all the records on them, they did a hell of a good job too from stopping these deaths from getting reported in the local paper. Something is wrong here and whatever it is, these 15 people who’ve died in the last five years deserve some justice...and that include’s Paulette too.” Senna’s lips glue themselves together, an invigorated silence enveloping them all that’s broken up by a sharp banging sound on the trap door that has them all screaming in fear.

“What the fuck was that!?” Senna screams as the bang comes a little bit more forceful this time. She rushes to a hiding space, retrieving a metal bat from within it that she grips tightly in both of her hands. “Whoever the heck you are,” she screams at the trapdoor, “you better state a good reason for why I shouldn’t beat your face to a pulp with my bat!”

Instead of an answer, the pounding against the door just comes again. Glancing at Rodrigo, Senna jerks her chin at him and then at the trapdoor itself. 

“Why me?” Rodrigo whines.

“Because you’re easy prey,” she explains to him, “and if you go down first that gives me a chance to wack whoever is outside in the face.”

Rodrigo just frowns at her, but walks over to the trapdoor and drops to his knees, his fingers slipping into the smooth ring that’ll lift the whole thing up. He glances back at Senna who merely nods slowly at him. Taking a deep breath, he jerks the ring up, causing the trapdoor to fly open and smack open against the floor.

Senna let’s out a guttural roar as she prepares to take a swing with her bat. “Wait! Stop! Jesus Christ!” Come’s a deep cry as Percy pokes his head through the trapdoor, his eyes pointed on the bat that Senna’s holding in midswing. 

“What the fuck dude?” her brows pinch together as she lets the bat go slack in her hands, loosening her grip on it, she lets the tip hit the floor with a dull  _ thunk _ .

“I told you you should have said something!” Down below, Pierre’s voice floats up to them all.

“How the heck did you even find us?” Ayo lifts a brow in Percy’s direction.

“I’ll tell you how if you let me and Pierre in.”

“No way!” Senna grumbles, “that’s not happening.”

“I agree,” Izzy sniffs, pushing up the frames of her glasses, “that would be illogical given the current situation.”

“Well,” Percy hums, a bushy blond brow rising slightly on his face, “I guess you won’t find out how I found you guys.”

Senna groans, her teeth chewing on her bottom lip as she shares a glance with Ayo. “Fine...we’ll hear you out, but just know that I have a bat and I know how to use it in a way the cops would never be able to identify your corpse once they found it.”

Unfazed, Percy just blinks at her and relays back to Pierre that they’re being allowed into the treehouse. Once Percy and Pierre are settled comfortably in the treehouse, Senna frowns at them, “Alright, spit it out, how the fuck did you find us?”

“We saw all four of you,” Percy gestures with a lazy wave at the underdogs, “clustered around the tree near the archery field, we’ve noticed that you and Ayo tended to go missing a lot whenever you two would leave the bunker and not come back for a while. So I had my suspicions and decided to follow you two.”

“Why?”

At that single question, Percy’s mouth flattens into a thin line, his eyes becoming steely as he stares Senna down. “Oh, I don’t know,” he sniffs, “my best friend is found dead at camp and two campers from my own bunker are acting suspicious, sneaking off and disappearing for hours on end. It kind of makes one think that you might have been involved in Paulette’s death.”

That clearly wasn’t the right thing to say when everyone was already on edge. Not the way Senna seems to bristle at the accusations. “Oh, fuck you, Percy!” She spits with a surprising amount of venom that has Percy rising to his feet. Pierre hops up beside him, clearly intent on defending him; it mirrors Ayo’s actions of rising up to their feet and coming to stand beside Senna in solidarity.

Rodrigo and Izzy glance at each other, the taller of the two hops to his own feet and comes to stand in the middle of the two feuding couples. “Everyone needs to relax,” Rodrigo pleas with them both, “I understand everyone’s on edge after what happened to Paulette but it’s not going to help if we start pointing fingers at anyone.”

There’s a tense air between everyone as Percy sizes Senna up, the tension is so thick that Rodrigo worries it’ll never be broken until Percy lets out a dissatisfied hiss between his teeth. “Fine,” he huffs, causing everyone to slightly relax.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kick you down the ladder right now,” Senna bristles, still slightly riled up even though the tensions have been broken some. 

“Because I want in!” Percy growls out as if his intentions are clear to everyone in the treehouse.

“In on what?” 

“Helping you find whoever murdered Paulette,” Percy’s lips press shut as he glances around the room, “even if it was one of you or the other campers.”

Squaring her jaw, Senna just stares at him, her eyes beady as if she’s weighing the worth of his words. “Welcome to the underdogs club then.” She sticks out her hand in Percy and Pierre’s direction, both of them glance at one another warily until Percy grasps her hand for a firm shake and Pierre does the same.

With an agreement in place, they end up splitting the case files between the six of them. Percy and Pierre’s eyes don’t bug out of their head the same way Rodrigo’s did when Senna pulls out the backpack stuff full of smuggled in electronics. He ends up asking them about it and all Pierre does is smile. “This is like the tamest thing I’ve seen people smuggle in before,” Pierre tells him with an impish grin, “in my third year here the person I was bunking with managed to smuggle in a shit ton of condoms and a suitcase full of alcohol.”

“Who was it?” Izzy leans forward on the couch she’s seated on, her legs crossed over each other to the point that Rodrigo’s half worried that if she leans forward just a little more she’ll fall.

“It was me,” Percy tells her with a wild grin and a wiggle of his brows.

It’s nearly half an hour when they all began to look into the case files when they start coming to the disturbing realization that Senna’s hunch was right. One of the bodies found in the lake was found to have the front half of their clothes wet, but the presence of water in the lungs was nonexistent. This meant it shouldn’t have been written off as a drowning but the coroner signed off on the death certificate anyway. They discovered that another death was written off as a barn owl attack after dozens of wounds littering the face and upper half of the chest were found, but as Senna questioned once Rodrigo had told her about it, “When was the last time any of you saw a barn owl in the area?” She had stood up and added this mysterious circumstance onto the rapidly filling whiteboard.

Senna frowns as she taps her foot against the floor, the whiteboard barely has an inch of negative space left on it as she taps the capped marker against her cheek.

“What are you thinking?” Ayo asks her.

She pauses, flitting through a dozen theories before murmuring, “I think the camp is covering the deaths up.”

“You have to be joking!” Rodrigo shakes his head, the words tumbling from his mouth faster than any more theories that Senna can spin. “Why would the camp cover up a bunch of deaths? Don’t you think they’d want the campers to be safe and not have a crisis on their hands?”

“I have to agree with Rodrigo here,” Pierre frowns. “Why would the camp directors continue to run the camp every summer? Don’t you think they wouldn’t do so if there’s even the chance some camper in the past five years would have discovered what we just did?”

“It would make sense,” Izzy starts to argue, “if I ran a camp that had a serial killer running around I wouldn’t want anyone finding out.”

“A serial killer?” Percy scoffs at her, “you think Paulette got murdered by a serial killer?”

Light flashes across Izzy’s glasses, her lips purse together, “All logical evidence points to there being a serial killer in Wolf Creek,” she grimaces as she pushes up her glasses before adding, “or at the camp.”

Everyone falls silent at that last little bit of information. It was one thing to assume there was a serial killer in the area, but at the camp? No one wanted to think that one of their own had ended Paulette’s life. Without a single word, Senna stands and moves toward the whiteboard. “We need to look for new information,” Senna grabs a marker and writes the word information on one corner of the board, she circles it twice, “anything strange, anything out of place that might have occurred during the beginning of the murders.”

“The beekeeper was hired in the summer five years ago,” Percy points this little bit of information out.

Senna nods, writing the word beekeeper on the board and surrounding it with a million question marks. “We need to talk to some of the original campers and camp counselors, anyone who was here five years ago.” She starts writing names on the board: Hazel, Stefan, and a few other names of campers and camp counselors that Rodrigo has seen around. “Rodrigo, I’m going to need you to talk to Stefan since you see him more than any of us—”

“—I’ll take Hazel,” Ayo interrupts her, “she’s best friends with Helen so I can get to Hazel through her.”

An annoyed look flashes across Senna’s face as if she wants to disagree with him, but she presses her lips together as everyone else speaks up about taking a name from the remaining list that needs to be tackled. Once all the names have been divvied up, Senna suggests that they all meet up at some point to go over the information that they learn.

“It better be before the color wars start though,” a pixie-like grin tugs at Pierre’s lips, his fingers steeple together as if he’s some supervillain about to reveal his plan for world domination to the captured hero, “I have big plans for this year.” He starts to cackle and rubs his hands together which does nothing but make everyone else nervous, a collective shudder runs down their backs as they remember a whole bunker worth of stolen underwear flapping on the limbs of a tree.

  
  


Rodrigo’s walking through the woods, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. He’s some distance away from the treehouse when he pauses, his eyes glance around the woods, around at the thick tree trunks, hedges, and leaves littering the ground. His skin crawls with unease as if he’s being watched. Taking a single step forward, his boot crushes leaves beneath him just as Jasmine leaps out behind the trunk of a, particularly thick tree.

A high pitched scream rips itself from his lips even as Jasmine’s brows wrinkle with worry. “I’m so sorry!” She yelps, “I didn’t think I would scare you.”

They’re a few feet away from the edge of the camp, he can see the trail they often take on the rare occasions they bring out the horses for a stroll. “What are you doing here?” Rodrigo asks as he presses a hand against a rapidly beating heart.

“I was waiting for you,” Jasmine smiles innocently at him, a fondness wrapping around her words in a way that makes Rodrigo feel that this interaction is cute rather than creepy.

“You were...waiting for me?”

“Yea,” she nods, “I was supposed to meet my friends for dinner, but one of the bunkers is throwing a fireside party so my friends ditched me for that.” She reaches up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, “all my friends are going so I was going to be eating dinner by myself and I’m not a fan of eating alone,” her cheeks flush pink as she reaches out and adjusts Rodrigo’s scarf for him, she’s still touching the edge of the fabric, “so would you like to go to dinner with me?”

Her question sounds like music to his ears, “Just the two of us?” She nods. “Alone?” She nods again.

“Yes, unless you wanted to invite someone else?” 

Stefan’s face briefly flashes in his mind just as he shakes his head. They walk to the canteen together, neither of them noticing Stefan walking up the opposite pathway. Stefan lifts a hand, ready to call out to Rodrigo in greeting but he pauses when he notices Jasmine peering at him, a small smirk on her face that feels like the cold touch of winter. It causes Stefan to shiver despite the warm summer heat around him. He watches the two of them disappear into the canteen together.

Jasmine and Rodrigo grab dinner, honestly, he doesn’t even know what it is he’s so distracted by Jasmine’s smile and the light touches of his arm.

“So, Rodrigo,” Jasmine smiles as she rips apart her bread roll, “how’d you and Stefan meet?” It’s an innocent enough question, a regular question really but there’s...a tone to it that has Rodrigo pausing, his pasta slipping from the tip of his fork. A tone that a feeble subconscious part of Rodrigo’s mind whispers for him to not answer.

“Uh,” the corner of Rodrigo’s lips wrinkle slightly, “we met the first day of camp.”

Jasmine hums lightly as she nibbles on a corner of the piece of bread she tore off. Her eyes are narrowed and slightly dark as she and Rodrigo converse through dinner, she asks him dozens of questions and finally bids him goodbye when one of her friends come in and convinces her to come down to the fireside party since someone brought all the ingredients to make smores.

“I’ll see you around, Rodrigo,” Jasmine waves at him as she runs off with her friend.

By the time Rodrigo leaves the canteen and walks back to the bunkers that he pauses in his steps, a sharp frown coming across his features as he comes to a startling realization that not once during their dinner together had Jasmine asked questions about himself. No, he thinks to himself, all she asked him were questions relating to Stefan.


	6. A Pattern

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said that this chapter would be a Writer's Nook but I've been eager to share this chapter for a while since there's so much that happens in that I'm eager to share with everyone. So I'll push back the Writer's Nook to some other chapter for the time being.

Reclined on Stefan’s bed, Rodrigo watches the lifeguard idly strum out a tune on his guitar. A bag of snacks is placed between them when Stefan stops strumming to glance down at the camper. 

“Hey, Rodrigo.”

“Hmm?” Rodrigo hums, biting off the half of the cream-filled cookie he has in his hand.

“Do you have any plans for next Saturday?” There’s a light blush dusting Stefan’s cheeks as he asks this.

“No,” Rodrigo confirms with a shake of his head, “I don’t really have anything planned. But that is the day before the Color War starts.”

“I know,” Stefan replies hastily, an uncertain smile tugs at his lips as he glances at Rodrigo, his guitar held between them like a shield, “it’s just...there’s a carnival in my hometown that starts that week and I was wondering if you wanted to go.”

Rodrigo just stares at him, wonders what this sudden interest in going to a carnival half an hour away is about. “Stefan, you know campers can’t leave the campgrounds, right?”

“I know,” Stefan starts, there’s a glimmer in his eyes like as if he knows something that Rodrigo doesn’t, “but counselors and staff are able to leave on the weekends so long as they have their own car or can catch a ride.” He pauses as if searching for the right words, “so I just wanted to see if you were interested in getting away from camp for one day.”

Shoving the other half of the cookie he was eating into his mouth, “Sure,” he replies with a shrug of his shoulders that seems to make Stefan’s face light up. He resumes strumming on his guitar, about half an hour passes between the two of them with Stefan strumming out some random tune and Rodrigo relaxing as the gentle notes coming from Stefan’s guitar causes Rodrigo to relax.

The peace between them is broken by Rodrigo tipping his head back to stare at Stefan, a gentle smile stretches across Stefan’s face as he stares back. “Stefan?”

“Yea?”

“What do you know about the beekeeper?” The sudden question causes Stefan to miss a chord, he frowns, reaching toward the bag of snacks to pull out a cookie cat. His brows wrinkle together, “why are you asking about the beekeeper?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Rodrigo just glances at him out of the corner of his eyes. “I’ve seen the beekeeper around camp a few times, so I was just wondering.”

“Well,” Stefan pauses to bite into the cold treat, “the beekeeper got hired about five years ago. He doesn’t really talk to anyone except for the staff unless he needs to, but he does have a cabin at the edge of the woods that he rarely ever leaves unless he’s delivering honey to the camp.”

Humming in acknowledgment, Rodrigo blinks up at the ceiling to formulate how best to ask his next question. “Has anything strange...happened in the last five years?”

“Strange how?” Quirking a single brow in Rodrigo’s direction, Stefan pauses, the strawberry side of the frozen treat starts to melt down the side of his hand. 

“It’s nothing,” Rodrigo replies with a shake of his head.

The next day the underdogs meet up to go over all of the information they’ve collected with Rodrigo telling everyone the little bit that he had learned from Stefan.

“Hmm,” Ayo hummed, reclined across the floor with their cheek pressed against their palm, “at least Rodrigo seemed to have gotten more information than any of us did. Hazel freaked out when I so much as even mentioned the beekeeper.”

Chewing on her nail, Senna’s eyebrows wrinkle together, “well I’d be freaked to if I knew something and it isn’t exactly a coincidence that the beekeeper’s hiring and the timeline of all of these deaths just happens to overlap.” She resumes chewing on her nail contemplatively. “Ugh, we hardly got anything useful,” she glances at the whiteboard, a groan slipping from her lips. “We still need more information.”

“I could just talk to Helen,” Ayo proposes, “she’s been at camp for the same amount of time as Hazel, she could possibly know something.”

“No,” Senna immediately shoots down, her eyes narrowing with disgust at the idea.

“Why not?” Ayo’s eyes are narrowed so tightly that their pupils nearly disappear. “You said we needed more information and I’m volunteering to get some.”

“You already hang out with Helen more than you do with me lately,” Senna spits out, her words tinged with bitterness, “what else could you possibly learn that she already hasn’t told you? Unless you want to spend hours talking to her about her obsession with kayaking.”

The mood in the room turns tense, bitterness was interwoven through it as if its the embroidery to go upon a quilt. 

“Guys?” Pierre cocks a single blond eyebrow, “we kind of have a job of finding out who murdered my friend to get through.”

Senna’s jaw is so tightly set that it almost seems like it pains her to mutter out, “Fine, talk to Helen. Fat chance you’ll learn anything useful from her though. In the meantime, Izzy’s going to comb through the files again and I’m going to text Khaz to see if he’s got any new information he’s willing to part with. We meet up here, next Saturday.”

“I can’t do Saturday.” All eyes swivel on Rodrigo, with Senna’s brow quirking upward in a silent question.

“Rodrigo, I’m sure you’ll live if you don’t get through your latest sci-fi fantasy novel for one weekend.”

With a sharp purse of his mouth and a roll of his eyes, Rodrigo tells her, “I’ve already finished book four of  _ The Shatterstorm Chronicles _ —”

In her own little corner, Izzy lets out a whoop of joy. She’d gotten Rodrigo hooked on the series and they’d often talk about it over lunch or dinner whenever Stefan was busy with his duties that he wasn’t able to hang out with Rodrigo.

“—I’m just not going to be at camp when we usually meet up,” he continues, “Stefan’s taking me to some carnival in his home town.”

Senna’s eyes widen, a reaction she shares with Ayo. The both of them glance at each other, a look of disbelief flickering across their faces before Senna turns to stare back at Rodrigo. “Stefan,” she says his name slowly, “is taking you...to a carnival...alone.” The way she says it almost makes it sound like a question, which confuses Rodrigo.

“Yea?” He says skeptically, glancing at Ayo who blinks owlishly, their hands pressed together with their mouth touching the tips of their fingers as they stare off into the distance as if Rodrigo has just admitted to everyone that he was an alien.

Senna’s mouth is wide with shock as her eyelashes rapidly flutter against her cheek. 

“Am I the only person in the room who doesn’t understand what’s going on right now?” Pierre voices aloud.

“Okay,” Senna hums, “have fun.”

Saturday comes so quickly for Rodrigo that he’s so giddy to get away from camp for one day that he ends up writing about it in his letter to his best friend. It’s nearly 5 pm when Rodrigo starts to make his way down to the lake where he and Stefan agreed to meet up, Rodrigo has to stop himself at the end of the path that leads to the lake to do a double-take, Stefan’s smiling at him, sporting a leather jacket over his black t-shirt that just seems to fit his personality somehow. “Ready to go?” Stefan dangles the keys to his vehicle to emphasize his question.

“Yea,” the moment that single word has left Rodrigo’s lips, the bushes behind him rustle with an alarming frequency that makes Rodrigo worry that it’s a woodland creature. But instead, out of the bushes, pops the other underdogs.

“Not without us!” Senna cries as she bends to brush some stray leaves off of her pants.

Stefan’s brows pinch together as he takes one glance at Rodrigo and then at the ragtag group of campers. “Look—” Stefan starts to say only to be cut off by Senna lifting her hands in front of her.

“We heard about your and Rodrigo’s...plans...and we just want to tag along to go to the carnival, take a little break away from all the shit that’s been happening at camp y’know?”

“No,” Stefan stands his ground even as Senna tries to throw in a bribe.

“Ok, but what about letting us come for a free Gibson Les Paul Faded T 2020?” A flash of surprise quickly darts across Stefan’s face at the guitar name.

“How did you—?”

Senna just gives him a lazy shrug of her shoulders, her arms crossed in front of her as a smirk paints itself across her lips. “My uncle got it from a buddy of his, he’s not really into Gibson’s so he sent it to me, but seeing as I’m not super into guitars and you seem like a man who knows his stuff about them. I’ll be willing to give it to you...if you take us to the carnival.” Sticking her hand out in his direction, she waits for Stefan’s decision.

A thousand emotions flit across his face before Stefan lets out a heavy sigh as he grasps Senna’s hand and gives it a firm shake, “Fine, you have yourself a deal. So long as none of you tell any of the other campers or counselors who you got a ride from.”

“Mum’s the word!” Senna mimes zipping her mouth up, locking it up and tossing away the key.

The group of campers and lone lifeguard head toward the parking lot where Stefan’s forest green Toyota pickup truck is parked. Rodrigo claims the passenger seat with Izzy sitting in the back and the rest of the underdogs opting to sit in the truck bed for the half an hour ride from camp to Stefan’s hometown.

It’s a quaint ride to Crystal Lake, the sun’s just starting to set when they breeze past the sign that greets them upon entering the town.

“If you look to your right,” Stefan pauses humming along to the song on the radio to speak, “you’ll see the lake the town’s named after.”

Turning his head, Rodrigo gasps, there’s a large lake that snakes it’s way through the town, the sun’s shining down upon it turning the clear water into a shimmering mirror that almost makes it look like it was crystal glass. “It’s beautiful,” Rodrigo whispers so softly that he thinks no one hears him, but Stefan smiles all the same. 

They finally reach the carnival, the bright lights of the Ferris wheel, and multiple other attractions, serving as a beacon underneath the setting sun. Clambering out of the truck once it’s parked, the group heads toward the entrance of the carnival where Stefan spins on his heels to say something to them all. But he’s cut off by Senna giving him a shake of her head, “Relax, Stefan, we’ll be on our best behavior and we’ll even leave you and Rodrigo to enjoy your—”

Whatever she was about to say is cut off by Ayo giving her ankle a swift kick, they loop their arm through hers and just tug her away toward a booth with water guns. Izzy trails after them whereas Percy and Pierre head toward a spinning carnival ride that has captured both of their attentions. Leaving Stefan and Rodrigo by themselves, Stefan shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he glances at the camper. “Want to grab something to eat?”

With a nod, Rodrigo follows Stefan into the carnival, the lifeguard’s face pinched as he seems to search for a stall that he’s familiar with. “My hometown makes the best carnival food,” he tells Rodrigo, “when I was a kid, I’d eat so much here every summer, that I’d always puke by the time I got on one of the rides.” They come to a stop in front of a stall selling deep-fried sweets. “One deep fried oreo, please.” Rodrigo reaches into his back pocket for a wallet, but a shake of Stefan’s head deters him. “Relax, I got it.”

Stefan takes the deep-fried treat from the food vendor who offers it to him. It’s three lumps of fried dough stuck on a stick dusted with powdered sugar and drizzled with chocolate syrup.

“What is this?” Rodrigo asks as Stefan hands him the stick.

“It’s a deep-fried oreo, I think you’re going to like it.”

Hesitantly, Rodrigo leans forward and takes a bite out of the treat, even as Stefan’s eyes encourage him further. His eyes widen as the fried doughy treat explodes in his mouth with a gentle sweetness that isn’t overpowered by the slightly sweet dough or the toppings on it. “It’s good!” Rodrigo manages to chew out around his full mouth, “I never knew that this is what an oreo tastes like.”

Stefan’s taken aback by that to the point that he lets out a soft laugh, “What? Come on, everyone’s had an oreo at least once in their life. I’m sure your parents let you at least have one once.”

“I haven’t,” Rodrigo responds back with a shake of his head, “my parents were—are—very strict on what I ate. I wasn’t allowed to have sweets at all.” His mouth worms its way into a frown, “they controlled a lot of aspects of my life too.”

A scoff leaves Stefan’s lips as he glances at Rodrigo, “I wish my parents had been a little strict with me, their parenting was very hands-off; they let me do what I want so long as I was safe.” 

Lips pursing together, Rodrigo’s eyebrows knit together as he stares at Stefan, “My parents' parenting style wasn’t great, Stefan, they planned out my whole life for me.” He scoffs, waving the doughy treat around as if it was a pointer, “they’re still trying to! The only career options they believe I have are taking over my mom’s business or becoming a doctor like my dad. They’ve never once asked me if that’s what I’ve wanted to do and if I try to tell them they steamroll over me.” A heavy sigh leaves him, causing his shoulders to sag slightly, “they’ve always decided what I could do with my leisure time, controlled what I could study, who I couldn’t or could be friends with and now that I’m older, the only reason I got sent to this camp in the first place was that they both believe I need work on my social skills and the fact that I chose to not apply for my dad’s alma mater or get a business degree that makes me a failure in my parent’s eyes.”

Shaking his head, Rodrigo blinks away the beads of moisture that had formed in the corner of his eyes. He chuckles bitterly, “I’m sorry for talking about something so depressing.”

“Dude,” a small smile quirks at the corner of Stefan’s lip, “that’s why I invited you out tonight, I wanted you to just relax and be yourself for once. You don’t need to worry about what your parents want or what they don’t want for you.” Shoving his hands into his pocket, Stefan scuffs the tip of his boot against the grass, “and listen, I’m sorry for bringing up your parents alright.”

“It’s not a problem,” Rodrigo responds, which seems to ease the tension in Stefan’s shoulders.

“Good,” Stefan nods, his lips twitch as he stares at Rodrigo, hands clenching in his pockets as if he wants to reach out and touch him, but he keeps his hands where they are, “cause I just want you to have fun. Though I would have preferred if it were just the two of us.” He sounds a little bitter as those words leave his lips.

“Stefan!” In the distance someone is shouting the lifeguard’s name. Both of them turn in the direction of the noise, spying a pink-haired woman in a leather jacket and a man beside her who look like Stefan’s parents from the photo in his room.

“Mom! Dad!” Stefan’s face lights up as his mother runs toward him and grips him in a tight hug.

“Oh, look at you!” Her voice is honey-rich as she leans away from her son and grips the edge of his jacket to take a look at him, she has to tip her head back ever so slightly just to do so, but she’s grinning from ear to ear as she swoops in for another hug. “Oh, who is this?” She hisses, spying Rodrigo by Stefan’s side. Her fingers slide away from her son’s jacket as she walks over to Rodrigo and pinches at his left cheek. “And you must be the one my son talks about frequently on his daily calls.”

“Mom!” Stefan’s cheeks darken, turning a maroonish color as embarrassment washed over him.

His mom sticks her tongue out at him before turning to address Rodrigo once more, “you know, Stefan talks so much about you that I was beginning to wonder if he—” she stops when her husband pokes in her ribs with a knowing smile, the two of them glancing back at their embarrassed son.

Stefan’s blushing so hard that Rodrigo all but wonders what this is about as the lifeguard presses a hand against his face. “Mom, what are you doing here? Don’t you usually skip the carnival?” His last question is hissed out, pointed in a way that makes his mother laugh.

“I know, but I couldn’t resist coming this year, especially since the mayor asked me to be the entertainment for the evening. I have a set in half an hour with my bandmates, so I hope to see you and—” she cocks an eyebrow in her son’s direction.

“My  _ friend _ .” Stefan grits the word out even as his cheeks darken another shade.

“—your friend,” his mother’s eyes seem to twinkle on that single word, “at the show.”

Turning to her son, she pushes herself up using the tips of her toes and kisses him on the cheek. She promises to see him later. Once she and her husband have left, Stefan drags Rodrigo around the entirety of the carnival, the both of them stopping at a booth where a set of pins had to be knocked down with a trio of small balls. Rodrigo’s eyes lit up as he spied a mole plushy that he tried and failed to win.

“Hold on,” Shrugging off his leather jacket, Stefan handed it to Rodrigo, “I got this for you.”

It took him only one try, but Stefan managed to win the mole plushy, something that he personally found hideous, but gladly gave to Rodrigo once it was in his hands.

“Oh, cool....mole?” Senna quirked her brow as she sipped on the soda she had in her hand, she took one look at the mole plushy in Rodrigo’s hands and stared at him, “Did the booth run out of other things for you to win?”

“Nope,” Rodrigo smiles at her, giving her a sharp shake of his head, “Stefan won it for me.”

Eyes widening at that little tidbit of information, Senna’s mouth flops open only for her to snap it shut once Ayo elbows her in the side and gives Senna a firm shake of their head.

Checking the time with his phone, Stefan informs everyone that the concert is about to start. Stage lights sail across the sea of packed bodies that Stefan and the group push through in order to get into the middle of. Two of the lights form a circle in the middle of the stage as Stefan’s mom walks into it, there’s a guitar strapped around her waist as she smiles into the microphone before her.

“Hello, carnival-goers!” Her voice projects into the microphone despite the quell of the crowd, it’s enough to bring the noise near the stage down to a soft murmur of excitement, “tonight,  _ The Crystal Gems _ have a real treat for you all!” That announcement sends a cheer up through the crowd as Stefan’s mom takes a few seconds to introduce her bandmates. There’s a black woman with an afro and dark black shades on drums, a shorter woman in what looked like late 80s fashion on bass and a delicate, pale woman manning the keyboard. “Are all of you ready to rock!” The crowd cheers. “Well here’s our most popular song! Love & War Amongst the Stars!”

Stefan’s mother steps away from the microphone to strum her fingers against her electric guitar, it’s a fast melody that’s surprisingly kept in pace by the drums and bass that follow with the keyboard following a few seconds after the song has started.

Rodrigo doesn’t even know how to begin to describe the song. It’s infectious in the way that it makes everyone get to their feet and dance as Stefan’s mother starts to sing into the microphone. He’s never even heard the song before but he finds himself humming along. After the first song has ended the band slips into a second one and then a third that manages to keep the feelings of the crowd pumped up so that they’re still on their feet. At some point in the third song, Rodrigo can feel Stefan’s eyes burning as they stare at him. He turns to find the lifeguard smiling at him, a twinkle in his eye to find Rodrigo enjoying himself so thoroughly. By the last song, it’s slower and softer, a farewell song to the crowd that makes them wish it wasn’t over.

By the time the concert has ended Rodrigo’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat from dancing so hard.

By the time all of them manage to pile back into Stefan’s truck it’s nearing midnight. They hung around the stage of the concert for a little longer so that Stefan could tell his mom that they were leaving. The road’s lined with thick trees and woodland are dark enough that Stefan has to turn on his high-beams. They make it back to camp and Rodrigo lingers at the truck with Stefan as he locks it up. The other campers have gone ahead back to the bunkers after thanking the lifeguard for taking them to the carnival and bidding both he and Rodrigo goodnight.

Rodrigo’s chin is pressed into the head of the mole plushy he’s holding as Stefan glances at him with a smile. “Want me to walk you back to your bunker?”

“I think I can get back on my own.” Swiveling on his heel, Rodrigo takes a step forward just as a very audible snap of a branch in the woods has him pausing and glancing back at Stefan. “On second thought…”

“Come on,” a large hand pats his shoulder as the two of them walk out of the parking lot and back to Rodrigo’s bunker. They’re lingering on the porch once they get there with Stefan looking into the distance as if he doesn’t quite know what to do in this situation.

“Thanks, for tonight,” Rodrigo tells him, before quickly remembering the object in his hands, he gestures to it, “also for this. This was the first time in...a really long time that I had fun.”

“Just let me know whenever you want to sneak out of camp some more. There are a ton of cool places that I know of that I can take you too. My town even has a drive-in theater that plays old horror movies on the weekends.”

“I’ll remember that for next time.”

With nothing more to say the two of them just stand there awkwardly. Stefan kind of leans forward, closing the gap between them, but stops when Rodrigo just blinks at him with a large degree of confusion. Instead, he resolves himself to pat Rodrigo’s arm and bid him goodnight.

Climbing down from the porch, Stefan throws a smile at Rodrigo, who gives him a small wave before disappearing into the bunker. A deep sigh rips itself from the lifeguard as he walks away, a hand reaching up to scrub at his face as he wonders to himself what the hell he was planning on doing back there.

As he loses himself in his trainwreck of thoughts he hardly notices Jasmine standing at the window of her own bunker. Her eyes following him before flicking over to the bunker Rodrigo lives in.


	7. Color Wars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with a new chapter after an unplanned hiatus on this fic!

The air is humid and warm in a way that makes Rodrigo wrinkle his brows deep in his sleep. Slowly, the sun rises above the horizon blanketing the campgrounds in golden wheat and pink hues, peace blankets the camp, a thick veil, tightly woven together that can’t be penetrated. That is until a chorus of screams have Rodrigo bolting upright in bed, along with his other cabinmates who groggily let their confusion be audible. They all push out of the bunker, other doors fly open with the same idea as a majority of the camp follows the screaming down to the lake where several mattresses are floating on the water with their occupants yelling in a mixture of surprise and frustration. Campers laugh as they notice it’s all of Bunker 7’s inhabitants floating on the water.

Standing on the top of a fallen log, Percy cackles with a madness that lets everyone know that the next few weeks are going to keep everyone on their toes.

Throwing his head back, Percy pumps his fists into the air as nature itself seems to quiver with the triumphant declaration that leaves him, “The color wars have begun!”

Once all the campers have had an opportunity to get dressed—after the camp counselors had come down to check on the source of the commotion and sent someone to wake up Stefan so that he and a few other counselors could help fish Bunker 7 from the lake. The camp counselors called for an early morning meeting once everything had settled down.

“And finally,” Hazel cleared her throat as she swept her eyes over the campers, exhaustion flickered in her eyes like a weak flame as her mouth pinched itself into a tight line. “We condemn the actions of a  _ certain _ camper who somehow managed to put Bunker 7’s mattresses and occupants in the middle of the lake. Now that that’s out of the way for many of our campers who are new to Camp Pining Hearts and have yet to experience the longstanding tradition of color wars, I’ll leave it up to my fellow counselors to explain it.”

A bright, blue-eyed camper shifts to the front of the group as Hazel falls back to explain the color wars. It was a month-long competition in which the camp would be divided into four groups: team yellow, blue, pink, and white. There’d be various competitions for each team to participate in that if they won would net the respective team points in the overall competition. The team with the most points at the end of the color wars would win the color cup and so far the cup had been won by team yellow for the last four years running.

Glancing back at Percy, Rodrigo was unsurprised to find him rubbing his hands together, the gears in his brain whirred as he planned out his next surprise attack to unleash upon the camp. Percy, who’d been in team yellow at all his years in the camp had made large contributions to his team winning the cup in the past four years and Rodrigo had only heard whispers of some of the things he did which caused him to shiver and hope he didn’t end up on the receiving end of any of them.

He turned his head to tune in to the rest of the explanation about the competition, “—Points are given out to the respective team in the form of colored ribbons, now ribbons can be stolen from a team via pranks or any means that the others can think of. If a ribbon is successfully taken those points transfer to the team that has snatched them.”

Hazel steps forward once more, “Campers will find what team they’ve been placed in on the notice board that will be posted later around lunch. Please check it and don’t commit pranks or anything that harm or maim other campers.” She shoots a look at Percy who bashfully blinks in her direction as if he doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

With that, the counselors announce it’s breakfast and campers break apart to either find their friends or get in first to the line that’s rapidly filling up as the cooks place out trays of freshly cooked bacon.

A touch on his elbow has Rodrigo turning his head slightly to find Izzy standing by his side. But a different figure near the entrance of the canteen has him flicking his eyes upward just in time to see Jasmine slink out of the building amongst the thick throng of campers.

  
  


Down by the lake, Stefan frowns as he sets about repairing the netting for the volleyball net that they use for watersports on the lake. He pauses in his work when he hears the crack of a branch behind him and then someone calling out his name.

For a brief second he believes it’s Rodrigo, he turns around, and disappointment blooms in his chest. Jasmine’s hands are clasped behind her back as she makes her way over to the picnic table Stefan is seated on, his stuff spread out around him. Eyes narrowing with wariness, he asks her, “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be at the camp meeting right now?”

“The meeting didn’t last for very long,” she smiles sweetly at him, “besides I came down here looking for someone.”

“Who?”

“Rodrigo.” Jasmine’s eyes glitter as she watches the subtle shifts of Stefan’s face.

“Why would you think he’d be here?” Stefan’s left brow arches slightly.

Her eyes narrow, her lids drooping as she gives Stefan a look that clearly conveys the message of  _ do you really want me to answer that question? _ “I don’t know,” she laughs with a sound that reminds the lifeguard of glass wind chimes going haywire when it’s windy. “He’s usually glued to your side if he’s nowhere to be found.”

Stefan’s lips flatten, not quite liking the way Jasmine conveyed a fact that was pretty apparent to others. “I’m sure he’s back at camp. If you just  _ looked _ a little harder you might find him.” There’s a bite to his tone that’s never been there before.

Without saying anything to him, Jasmine turns around and starts to walk away. She pauses and spins on her heel to face him again, “You know, you aren’t as nontransparent as you think you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stefan’s smooth voice that’s like liquid honey transfigures itself to the harsh oaky notes of bourbon.

“Just try not to wear your heart on your sleeve so much,” she warns him with a smile that has no warmth to it.

She leaves and Stefan finds that in her wake, there’s a cold chill slumbering in his bones that doesn’t dissipate until later in the day when he stumbles across Rodrigo at the bonfire party that kicks off the start of the Color Wars. Rodrigo’s covered from head to toe in what looks like a rainbow of chalk dust that makes Stefan snort against the red solo cup that he has pressed against his lips. “What happened to you?” He asks, Rodrigo shoots him a withering look as he tries and fails to wipe the dust off of himself.

“One of the teams decided it would be cool to ambush the others, so as Percy was leading our group to the canteen we got ambushed near the woods.”

A grumble of empathy makes it way past Stefan’s lips as he finds Percy in the crowd, sitting far away from Pierre, a look of discomfort painted across his face as the camper shakes his head and makes his way back to a throng of what Stefan assumes is the rest of his team for this event. Brows pinching in confusion, Stefan slightly scowls as he jerks his cup in Percy’s direction, “So you’re on Percy’s team?”

“Yea,” Rodrigo nods, “so is Izzy. Senna is on team pink and Ayo is on team blue.”

“Right,” Stefan mumbles, not really paying attention to what Rodrigo is saying, instead, keeping his gaze on Percy who sticks out like a sore thumb tonight. “So, what’s up with Percy?”

“I don’t know, but he’s been avoiding Pierre all day. I think they got into a fight or something because Percy told all of us not to fraternize with team pink.”

There’s laughter from near the bonfire where some of the counselors and campers were, the fire blooming a wild orange color from something that had been tossed in. “I saw Jasmine earlier,” Stefan mentions after some time had passed.

“Oh, really?” Rodrigo notices the uncomfortable look upon Stefan’s face as he asks that question.

“Have you ever noticed that Jasmine sometimes acts differently?”

“Differently in what way?”

“Like she seems to have two different personalities. Just this morning she—” Stefan doesn’t get too far as Jasmine skips over to their table and thrusts a tray of smores out to them.

“Smores?” Her teeth are exposed as her gaze shifts from Rodrigo to Stefan, there’s this crazed light in her eyes that makes Stefan want to get several feet away from her. 

His eyes flicker to a number of campers who are going around with their own trays of smores and offering it to others. Stefan considers calling one of them over and politely declining Jasmine’s offer when Rodrigo reaches out to the tray in her hand and plucks a smore from the edge of the tray. “Thanks, Jasmine!” Rodrigo cries out as Jasmine offers the tray to Stefan yet again.

“No, thanks,” he grumbles causing Jasmine to skip away and offer the tray to another table. 

“I don’t really get what you mean,” Rodrigo says, turning their conversation back to Stefan’s concerns about Jasmine having a split personality, “maybe she can be a little odd at times,” he leans in taking a single bite of the smore, splitting the treat in half, “but she seems fine to me and I haven’t heard anything bad about her from other campers.” He says around the mouthful of the gooey treat that he chews and swallows down. 

Nothing happens for a short moment until Rodrigo places a single hand against his throat and starts unbearably coughing which causes concern to bloom in Stefan’s chest. “Buddy, are you alright?”

Rodrigo forces himself to nod, “Just think I got some smore down the wrong pipe,” his breath is labored and slightly wheezy as he grabs up his own solo cup and gulps down the soda in it. It doesn’t seem to help as Rodrigo’s cough becomes more persistent, causing Stefan to stand up and ask if he’s okay again.

“I’m fine,” Rodrigo wheezes, his skin breaking out with sweat, “can you grab me some water, my throat’s a little itchy.” 

Stefan runs to one of the coolers set up around the bonfire, plunging his hand into the ice he pulls out a bottle of water and quickly runs back to Rodrigo’s side where he untwists the cap off of it and hands the water to Rodrigo. Most of the water spills out of Rodrigo’s mouth as he attempts to drink it, his breathing worsening by the second, his skin pale and his eyes glassy. “I think I’m going to be sick,” he manages to mumble around the wheezes coming out of him. He attempts to stand but stumbles, his knees giving out like jello being crushed in a bowl. His breathing seems worse as Stefan reaches out and grabs Rodrigo by his elbow to steady him.

“Hey, buddy,” reaching out, Stefan places a hand on Rodrigo’s cheek, he jerks his hand back as if he’s been burned, finding the camper’s skin to be feverishly hot. Stefan glances around him, finding worried and curious campers starting to close in on him; Stefan’s eyes pierce through the crowd, finding camp counselors rushing toward him. “He’s going into anaphylaxis!” His voice cuts through the loud murmur of the crowd, he sees Hazel’s eyes widen in alarm as she turns to the other counselors, Stefan can’t catch what she’s saying but he knows Hazel well enough that he knows she’s commanding them to grab the emergency medkit from the canteen. Where an emergency EpiPen is usually tucked away. He turns his head away just as Hazel’s pulling out her phone to call for paramedics. Focusing on Rodrigo, Stefan tucks his hand underneath Rodrigo’s head as he directs a camper closer to him to ensure that Rodrigo’s feet are elevated on the bench seat above him.

“Hey, Rodrigo, I’m going to need you to talk to me, if you can.” Rodrigo’s eyes had started to slip shut, his lips turning an uncomfortable shade of blue as the lifeguard slaps on his cheeks. The camper’s lips flap open and shut as he tries to make words come out from his lips but fails, everyone around the two is starting to get agitated. Someone screams about the counselor who ran off to grab the medkit taking too long. 

His chest burns as his lungs struggle to remember to breathe, Stefan can feel his hands shaking as he begins to panic.

“Stefan!” Senna’s sharp yell causes the lifeguard to glance up at her, see the way her eyes widen in her head as she points a shaky finger at Rodrigo’s prone form. “He’s stopped breathing!”

Stefan glances down at his friend, there’s an emptiness in his chest as he finds Senna’s observation to be sickeningly true. Faintly he hears Hazel relaying this information into the phone to the paramedics as she rushes over to Stefan’s side. The world around him seems to darken into pitch blackness, becomes narrower as he stares down at Rodrigo. He’s only broken out of his stupor by Hazel yelling his name, her hand pressed atop his, her eyebrows pinched as she stares at him.

“Stefan!” He glances at her, doesn’t notice the sting of tears in the corner of his eyes, “he needs CPR!” Hazel yells at him, the stress apparent in her voice.

Pressing his hands against Rodrigo’s chest, Stefan pushes his emotions aside and starts the process for CPR. What seems like an eon later, the counselor who had run off to fetch the medkit returns and jabs the EpiPen into Rodrigo’s leg. 

The paramedics arrived too, loaded Rodrigo up onto a stretcher and placed an oxygen mask over his face before wheeling him away to a waiting ambulance. Letting out a shaky sigh, Hazel brushes stray hair away from her face, lacing her fingers through her hair. “I need to go call his parents,” she mutters more to herself than to Stefan.

Stefan just stands where he is, his head so wrapped up in his thoughts that he doesn’t feel Ayo’s hand pressed against his shoulder. “Hey, dude, you alright?” Stefan glances at Ayo and gives a terse nod. Campers begin to disperse apart, the mood for a celebratory evening long gone after what had just occurred.

Eyes narrowing, Stefan’s gaze finds the lone person in the crowd wearing a human mask of false emotions. Jasmine has a quaking hand pressed against her mouth, crocodile tears grace her cheeks as a close friend comforts her. Anger swells in Stefan like an ocean wave, suspicion worming its way into his brain and leaving him with an uncomfortable thought that Rodrigo’s current condition was due to Jasmine’s hand.

_ But she wouldn’t poison him on purpose, right? _ Is the single thought that flits through Stefan’s mind, he finds that he can find no comfort in believing that she wouldn’t. The very little that he knows about her, the true facade that he’s seen behind the cracks in her mask points that she wouldn’t be beyond doing what was morally wrong just to get her way.

The thought disturbs him.

  
  


It’s the next day when Stefan’s down by the lake to lose himself in anything that isn’t his own thoughts. He hasn’t seen Rodrigo yet, he’s still stuck at the hospital after being admitted in and he hasn’t heard from him either. So for now he’s keeping his hands and thoughts busy with what little work there is to be done around the camp. Activities for the day have been canceled, seeing as one of the campers had a near-death experience.

“Stefan!” 

At the shout of his name, the lifeguard looks up from the kayak he’s repainting to see Senna picking her way down the path to the lake.

“What are you doing here?” He casually asks her, sticking the paintbrush back into the bucket of paint that he’d cracked open. 

“Checking up on you,” she huffs, taking a seat on the top of the picnic table, “you’re kind of a mess without, Rodrigo.”

“I’m not,” he bites back to which Senna arches a single brow and motions to the can of paint.

“Really? Because it seems to me you’re painting that Kayak green when it’s blue.” Glancing at his handiwork, Stefan curses as he finds the patch of faded paint he’d been working on was now a shade of lily green instead of slate blue. “See,” Senna hums, “I told you you’re a mess without him.” She pauses for a brief moment as Stefan chews on his inner lip, bouncing between the idea of going back to the shed to find the right shade of paint or just painting over the whole kayak instead. “So, what exactly happened to Rodrigo last night?”

“He had an allergic reaction,” Stefan answers, picking up the paintbrush to settle on what’s at least a good two hours of work before him.

“To what?” Her nose wrinkles slightly at the question, “a smore?”

“No,” Stefan replies a little coldly as Jasmine’s face floats in the recess of his mind, “to poutine.”

Senna’s mouth wrinkles as she gazes at Stefan’s back. “Buddy, look, I don’t want to point out the obvious to you, but we all had smores last night and not poutine. So unless you’ve gone off the deep end that badly to start hallucinating without Rodrigo by your side, a smore isn’t going to become poutine overnight.”

“Look,” Stefan huffs, letting his eyes slip shut to tip his head back to the sky, “I know what happened and I know what Rodrigo’s allergic to, especially to cause him to end up in the hospital like this. And I’m telling you he ingested poutine somehow.”

“Are you...are you saying Jasmine gave him some somehow?” Turning his torso slightly, Stefan bitterly smiles in Senna’s direction. He doesn’t say a word, but he can see the way her eyes mist over with scandalization, “look, I’m not a fan of Jasmine, but that’s a hefty accusation against her.”

“Yea, well,” he shrugs his shoulders, “I clearly remember Rodrigo offhandedly mentioning it to her once that he’s allergic to the stuff.”

“Couldn’t it have just been an accident?” Senna makes some melodramatic gagging noises as she finds herself defending Jasmine.

“An accident or intentional?” He questions, resuming his task of painting the kayak. “I’m not going to say it’s one or the other, but Rodrigo’s lying in a hospital because he had a severe allergic reaction to something that should have been safe to eat.” A deep sigh courses through him, “I’m going to visit him later if you want to come along?”

Senna shakes her head, hopping on to her feet a dark look flits across her features, “Nah, I got something that I have to do.”

Finishing the boat a little bit earlier than he thought he would have after Senna left, Stefan props the boat up on a pair of planks for it to dry in the warm summer sun. Rushing back up to the counselors’ cabin, he heads to his room to grab the keys to his truck and heads back upstairs to find Hazel in the kitchen, tossing a bunch of chopped up fruit into a blender.

“Heading out?” She questions, moving to the fridge with a bowl clutched in her hand, she presses the lip of it against the ice machine, causing cubes of the frozen water to tumble down into the bowl.

“Yea,” he nods, jingling the keys in his hand, “going to the hospital.”

Hazel pauses halfway to the blender, her mouth fixed tightly into a thin line, her eyes dart from the bowl in her hand to him. Her mouth unseams itself, the tip of her tongue pressed against the roof of her mouth like she’s about to say something only for her mouth to shut and reopen once more. “Going to visit Rodrigo?” 

“Uh, yea.” He nods tersely, Hazel gives him a once over, reading him in a way that only she’s good at. Stefan likes her for that, she’s perceptive; it’s a good quality to have and it aided her well in her work as a camp counselor. She could look at a camper and instantly become attuned with whatever was causing them a problem and help them out in whatever way she could. But right now, Stefan wasn’t too keen on having her analyze him.

“Right,” she nods, her bushy chocolate-colored hair bouncing against her shoulders. She turns to the counter and places the bowl of ice down, a strained silence settling in the kitchen. “You know, Stefan—” she starts, cuts herself off prematurely, her eyes flit to the side like she wants to have this conversation but deems the moment an infelicitous time to have it, “—you don’t have to beat yourself up over this—over what happened to Rodrigo last night.”

“I’m not,” he argues, “—I just—” his words trail off into silence. He’s not quite sure what he wants to say. He does blame himself, at least part of him does. He blames himself for freezing up, for letting his emotions get the better of him in those few critical seconds when Rodrigo had stopped breathing. He blames himself for letting Jasmine get so close, the proverbial snake amongst the grass. For letting her get so close that Rodrigo got hurt in the process. He blames Jasmine for her those black-hearted words of advice she had given him so long ago about Stefan wearing his heart on his sleeve.

He blames himself but there’s no way he’s going to tell Hazel that he does. Jumping slightly, he’s pulled out of his thoughts by Hazel’s soft hand pressed against the back of his own. Her storm cloud colored eyes peer up at him with an aged sort of wisdom that seems deeper once you peel back the surface. “Look,” she starts, “maybe stop by a convenience store on your way to the hospital, pick up something for yourself and Rodrigo.” A warm smile splits her face, “I’m sure he must hate the hospital food by now.”

He tells her he’ll see her later, before heading out and getting into his truck. Flicking on the radio to provide him some sort of comfort instead of the silence, he lets some of the popular lyricless songs that have taken over the radio fill the interior of the truck. It’s an hour and a half drive to the hospital from the camp, so Stefan leans back in his seat and keeps his eyes pointed on the road as he allows himself to think of nothing.

Stopping a few miles away from the hospital at the nearest Tim Hortons, he takes Hazel’s advice to heart, parks his truck, and heads inside to pick Rodrigo up a few things to eat.

He doesn’t quite know what Rodrigo likes to eat or wants to eat for that matter, compared to the bland hospital food he’s surely getting. Since it’s nearing lunch, Stefan settles on picking him up a few things. He ends up getting Rodrigo a chicken, bacon ranch wrap, a garden variety salad, a spicy Thai soup, and a pineapple, orange, guava smoothie. He ends up grabbing a coffee for himself and is on his way to the register when he spies a cookie cat wrapper from the corner of his eye. A brief smile flits across his face as he turns and spies the display advertising the new eggnog and cookies and cream flavored cookie cat ice cream sandwich. He grabs one and heads to the register to pay for the mountain of food he had grabbed.

By the time he reaches the hospital, it’s about half an hour past noon. The nurse greets him once he walks up to the receptionist who kindly gives him the direction to Rodrigo’s hospital room. He takes the elevator up to the third floor, makes his way down the hall, his eyes flickering over the door numbers until he draws closer to room 312. He’s about a couple doors down from it when he hears the sound of an incensed woman’s voice floating out through an open door.

“How could the camp allow something like that to happen to you!?”

“Mom,” comes Rodrigo’s voice, tone trying to placate her anger, “it wasn’t their fault.”

A lightbulb flashes in Stefan’s head as he realizes the angered voice belongs to Rodrigo’s mother. He presses himself against the wall, knowing best from what little he’s seen of her that it’s better for him to make himself unseen, less she turns her misguided anger on him.

“That’s not the point!” She hisses, a woman used to others around her agreeing with her, even if she’s in the wrong, “you should have been able to know that you were having an allergic reaction! Your father and I aren’t there to hold your hand and we shouldn’t have to remind you to carry your EpiPen with you at all times either.”

“But—” Rodrigo tries to argue.

“—No, buts!” His mother hisses, the sea wall that beats the wave back, “—you could have died! Do you know how many important meetings I had to cancel just to come and visit you in the hospital?”

“Couldn’t Dad have just come?” Rodrigo’s voice is muted, a bare reflection of what it normally is.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she sniffs like Rodrigo’s just asked for the impossible, “you know he’s busy. What? Do you want him to just shuffle his surgeries around so he can come and visit you?” Stefan doesn’t hear Rodrigo’s response, all he hears is the rustling of a bag and the sharp clack of heels against tiled flooring. He hears Rodrigo’s mother deeply sigh, “Call Stephanie to let her know when you’re discharged from the hospital. She’ll get the message to me.”

The sound of clicking heels against tiles grows closer toward the hall, flattening his back against the wall, Stefan holds his breath as Rodrigo’s mother bursts out into the hallway. Her purse tucked in the crook of her armpit, eyes glued to the iPhone in her hands. She doesn’t even notice him as she passes by him, the scent of her expensive perfume leaving a trail behind her. Pushing away from the wall, Stefan walks into Rodrigo’s hospital room and knocks his knuckles against the wall.

Rodrigo lifts his head, chin resting against his chest and a look on his face that was abject in a way with someone who’d been used to having the fire of their arguments doused by water. Their thoughts and ideas squashed before they could even take the chance to bloom. It helps a little that upon seeing Stefan, Rodrigo seems to light up. His lips curling into a smile, it makes Stefan push away the brief inquisitive thought of wondering if it was the nature of Rodrigo to be so downtrodden by his parents like that.

“Hey,” leaning back against the pillows of his hospital bed, Rodrigo smiles at Stefan, motions to the plastic bag in his right hand, “I didn’t expect you to come. What’d you bring?”

Stefan snorts, walks into the room and pulls the lone chair in the room up to the side of the hospital bed. “Like I would ever let you be bored in a hospital all by yourself. I brought some lunch since I think you’d probably be sick of the hospital food by now.”

“Oh, thank god,” he sighs as Stefan reaches into the bag and starts taking out the things he bought and setting them down on the fold-out tray Rodrigo has in front of him. He spies a tray of food already placed down in front of Rodrigo containing what looks like mashed potatoes and meat molded together with a carton of milk, and soup that looks more like a vat of oil.

“Looks like I came just in time to save your taste buds,” the camp counselor scoffs as he crumples the now empty bag and places it down on the end table wedged in the corner of the room, tucked beneath the tv and between the wall and hospital bed.

“You did,” Rodrigo hums, eyebrows slightly wrinkling as he takes in the amount of food before him. A soft chuckle rumbles in his chest, “but I can’t eat all of this so you’re going to have to share it with me.”

“That’s fine with me,” a playful smirk splits across Stefan’s face as he snatches up the chicken wrap just within Rodrigo’s reach, unwraps it, and takes a huge bite out of it.

“Hey!” Rodrigo yelps, his tone all bark with very little bite to it, “I was going to eat that first.”

“I know you were,” Stefan manages to utter around the large chunk of food he’s chewing on, “that’s why I grabbed it first.” He hands the wrap to Rodrigo, who peels back the wrapper a little more and takes a small bite out of it.

“So when did you get here?” He asks Stefan as the counselor busies himself by grabbing up the plastic straw and spearing it through the smoothie he bought for the camper.

“Uh—” Stefan trails off, not quite sure what to say since he doesn’t want to bring up the conversation he overheard between Rodrigo and his mother, but by the way he averts Rodrigo’s gaze, he understands.

“You overheard everything, huh?” 

Glancing at Rodrigo, Stefan’s surprised to see a resigned tiredness plastered onto his face. He nods, mouth wrinkled at the corners, “Are your parents always...like that?”

“Like what?” Rodrigo wryly asks, “if you mean my dad never really takes off work unless I make some big accomplishment that makes the family look good and not when his son and only child gets deathly ill. Or that my mom is cold, prefers her work over her family, and makes it seem like I’m a hindrance to her work then yes, my parents are like that.”

Mouth slightly ajar, Stefan leans forward in his chair, not quite certain what to say after Rodrigo let the floodgate of his emotions crack open slightly. “Rodrigo—”

Rodrigo shakes his head, takes a sip of his smoothie, and deeply sighs, “I don’t want to talk about my parents right now, could we just…I don’t know, talk about something else?”

They talk about other things. Stefan tells him about a pair of Siberian Huskies he saw in a parked car at the Tim Hortons he had stopped at. Tells him about Hazel walking in on Rodrigo’s camp counselor and his girlfriend who’d been found in a compromising position. They talk for what seems like hours with the two sharing the large amassed lunch, splitting the new edition of cookie cat between them with Stefan taking the eggnog ice cream portion and Rodrigo taking the cookies and cream half.

“How long are they planning to keep you in here?” Stefan finally asks, the sun’s burning a bright shade of orange in the sky and the nurse had poked her head in once or twice to check up on Rodrigo and to clear away the uneaten hospital food.

“For the next two days at least. And then I’m going back to camp, unless—” Unless of course his mother doesn’t try to argue against the decision.

“I’ll come back and give you a ride back to camp,” Stefan’s chin is resting in his hand as he gives Rodrigo something to be optimistic about.

“Like a knight in shining armor,” Rodrigo’s joke has Stefan’s brows arched on his face. As the sun casts a golden and orange glow above the treetops, Stefan leans back in the chair and gazes out of the windows.

“Something like that,” he murmurs as Rodrigo contently hums against the pillows, lets the silence roll over both of them as he begins to drift off.


End file.
